


Impromptu

by Blooperbloop



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, Aged Up, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, I will update these as we move on, M/M, Pining, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, because I couldn't help myself, hints of KagaKuro, hints of kikasa, rejection/confession, slow burn (I hope), subtle dates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blooperbloop/pseuds/Blooperbloop
Summary: Akashi often frequents Kuroko's apartment on his visits to Tokyo. There's a routine for it all, nothing is unaccounted or unexpected, he juggles living between two places without issue. Things get done, he stays productive. Akashi begins to struggle, however, not long after he becomes acquainted with a friend of Kuroko's, with maintaining this routine. Suddenly, deviating from plans becomes easy. Preferred, even.
Relationships: Akashi Seijuurou/Furihata Kouki
Comments: 69
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

Akashi swiftly typed through the final few sentences, key taps audible in the static, late night silence. He’d finally caught up on the revisions he wanted to add to his work, now complete and ready to send to his father.

He swivelled away from the table and cracked brittle tension out of his spine, slowly twisting his torso to unwind all the muscle there as well, concluding the motion with a relieved sigh. He always told himself he would stretch regularly when working for longer periods of time, however this intention always ebbed out once he got absorbed into his work.

He stood up, maybe too quickly going by the sudden blood rush pounding in his head, and his chair skidded backwards into the wardrobe, generating a solid woody ' _thunk_ '.

He remained standing for a few seconds, ears waiting to pick up on any sounds of Kuroko waking up. After a few moments of continued silence he decided that no damage had been done and made way out of the room. 

Kuroko’s apartment was generally pretty bad with carrying noise, but that was a minor issue - certainly better than staying in his spaciously empty flat in the upper area of Tokyo, where sound echoed up high ceilings with even the tiniest of disturbances.

He’d been coming down to stay for a couple of years, practically whenever he needed to be in Tokyo for more than a day. It was a good arrangement, gave opportunity for him to see Kuroko (among others) and avoid checking out at hotels, which would mean him staying by himself.

A hunger pang angrily compressed his stomach. A quick meal didn't sound bad right now, but Akashi wasn't too keen on having to cook and clean. Food now wouldn't be good for sleep anyway, and he settled on water instead, stomach’s emotions disregarded.

He snapped switches on the way to the kitchen, noises minimal and steps careful, and it was only after he made a few steps past the living room that he registered there being someone on the couch. He stilled as the lights flickered to something steady and then reversed for a closer look.

It wasn’t anyone he could recognise; messy brown hair, rumpled clothes, and…a shiny track of drool trailing down his cheek. In fact, with a closer look, the person didn’t look to be in good condition at all - under eyes so dark they looked like bruises, gaunt cheeks, and a general look of exhaustion, even in sleep. Rumpled and bothered.

His appearance didn’t match to anyone Kuroko had mentioned or described, and a brief flash of caution spiked within him at not being made aware of this visit, but then he recalled hearing some scuffling and Kuroko’s light voice sounding while he was working. He must’ve simply not registered any commotion while in his room.

He was also wrapped in Kuroko’s blanket throw (very haphazardly, but that must’ve been down to the...dynamic sleeping position. Somehow, one leg was strewn over the back of the sofa, while the other was almost bent under him), which meant that Kuroko most likely knew and cared for this person, so any concern would be unnecessary.

Akashi shook all his thoughts away and took his glass back to settle into bed, knowing none of his musings would be validated at this point in time. There was a vague curiosity as to who this mystery guest was, who he was in relation to Kuroko. He certainly didn’t look like the type of person Kuroko would have in his circle, but then again he did attract a large variety of people. Interesting, considering Kuroko's lack of social (or frankly any type of) presence.

Akashi, if he was being honest, did not understand how it was possible to be as mild as Kuroko and still successfully make friends with what seemed to be the majority of Tokyo’s population. He would not be surprised if his network connections exceeded his own.

All the spiralling questions eventually sent Akashi to sleep, convincing himself answers would eventually reveal themselves, prompted or not.

\-------

The following morning the guest was gone, the only thing showing that someone had been over being Kuroko’s spare blanket, which had been neatly folded and placed at the end of the sofa behind one of the cushions. The sofa was usually empty of any decorations, so the bright blanket caught the eye. Akashi wasn’t majorly fazed and went into the kitchen, mind already constructing a mental schedule for the day.

He turned to open the fridge, but his motion ceased when his eyes caught colour on the otherwise clear white surface. It was a post-it note, a fluorescent green square with the glue barely holding on to the fridge door, which read:

_‘Thanks for letting me crash, really needed it, I will pay back tomorrow for the booze. I’ll call after my shift!’_

The writing was very rushed, strokes loopy and uneven, yet the author somehow deemed there to be enough time to draw a small, winky smiley face with spiky hair at the bottom of their note.

Kuroko came in on this moment, Akashi staring at the note and calculating how much time the exclusion of the smiley would’ve saved towards making the writing look more legible - too much effort had been put into refining the picture (its hair for instance had star-shaped clips and varying textures). It was as though the picture took higher priority over proper handwriting.

“Good morning Akashi-kun, I hope you’ve managed to get some rest.”

“Managed fine, thank you.”

Kuroko nodded and also glanced over the note before coming to sit at the small circular table he had by the window. Akashi was quite certain that the table had, at some point, been taken from the outdoor area of a café, the typical metal bistro design. But this being Kuroko’s property meant he could dress it as he wished, café furniture and all. Akashi did not fail to express his disapproval of this.

“That’s good,” Kuroko started, “I forgot you were around since you’ve been working so much, but Furihata-kun isn’t loud so I wasn’t really worried about disturbing you. Good to have confirmation though.”

“My workload should decrease now as I’ve completed most of the projects that had deadlines for this month, just a few others to neaten up now but that will not be as time-consuming. Furihata-kun?”

“A friend. I met him back in university. He is a good person, just needed a little time to ‘emotionally unclog’ himself, as he phrased it.”

"And if you were to phrase it?"

"He's been working too much. I convinced him to take a few days off and get some sleep."

“This required alcohol?”

“No, I encouraged the alcohol – it makes him sleepy quickly. He wanted to go home by himself but it was late by the time we finished talking, I didn’t want him to travel by himself.”

“So you got him to drink in order to have him stay here.”

“Akashi-kun, that is a very outlandish thought.”

“Is it now?" Akashi took a sip of coffee. It burned his tongue, but he didn't flinch. He would start emoting when he was properly awake. "Manipulation with good intentions is still, believe it or not, manipulation.”

“Manipulation? You’re being a little dramatic. Anyway, I needed to tell you that I plan to go to see a friend down in Hokkaido, and wanted to ask whether you’d want the keys to stay here. I will be out for two, maybe three, days.”

Another friend. Now that he made himself aware of it, he would keep better track of Kuroko's connections. He couldn't pinpoint why it piqued his interest, but he reasoned extra wisdom never hurt. Akashi shook his head. “No, keep the keys. I’ll be going back to Kyoto today anyway, I doubt I’ll need to come back here for a couple of weeks. Are you leaving today?”

“No, packing today and leaving tomorrow.”

“I see, let me know when you’re back.”

After Kuroko left the flat Akashi packed everything he had laying around and organised his bag. There wasn’t much to collect, and everything fit into his small suitcase with room for extras. Despite Kuroko always welcoming him Akashi wanted to keep his presence to a minimum, so none of his possessions stayed any longer than he did.

\------

The next time he headed back to stay at Kuroko’s was a solid few weeks after, and he decided to buy food for them on his way from the station. It was a nice day, clear and sunny as it had been for about a week now. Kids happily chattered to their mothers and didn’t stray too much, old couples huddled along hand in hand, and there was the occasional tired teenager getting one or two things and quickly leaving. The scene was busy, but not chaotic like peak time shopping tended to be.

He walked past bright signs hanging over deals and offers, picked out the things he needed (ingredients for an Italian dish he and Kuroko wanted to try making). There was an ingredient that kept eluding him, an unfamiliar condiment, and he was sure he had circled maybe three times hoping his eyes would land on something suitable, but he just could not get lucky – he took out his phone and searched for an image of it with the hopes that that would aid him in some way. It did not.

He did however come to spot an employee stocking the shelves, and now a little impatient went over to ask whether they could find it.

“Excuse me.”

The guy turned and placed down the products he still had to put out without looking at his hands, and stepped off the stool he'd been using. It brought them to an equal height and brought the employee's face into full view. Akashi’s glance rapidly transitioned into a stare when their eyes met. Those themselves did not have any familiarity to him, but the general planes of his face did. After a look at the name tag Akashi put the two together. 

The person serving him was the very same that was on the sofa at Kuroko’s a couple weeks ago. Akashi recognised the soft nose and messy hair, although this time it was a more effortful messy rather than unkempt, and he wasn’t sure whether it was down to lighting or whatnot, but he didn’t look as exhausted. Maybe the prim uniform helped, added sharpness to his look that hadn't been present in his sleep.

He extended his hand out to him, not really thinking the action through, vision tunnelled onto Furihata. “Good afternoon, I’m Akashi Seijuro. I saw you sleeping a few weeks ago.”

“Wha- h-Huh?”

Furihata looked between Akashi’s hovering hand and his face. It almost made Akashi smile, the lost look on his face and the quick-blinking eyes, until he realised that although him recognising Furihata made sense, Furihata himself had never actually seen Akashi, and that smile dropped. What an outrageously stupid thing to say, ‘I saw you sleeping’. He internally berated himself for being so brash with the introductions and withdrew his hand, throat hot.

“My apologies.” He coughed, “I am a friend of Tetsuya’s, and was present on the night when you stayed over, although you were asleep.”

Furihata blinked dumbly at him a couple of times, processing the information. Some revelation must’ve hit him because he suddenly snapped his fingers and Akashi was waiting to be let in on that revelation, wishing for the question-filled silence to end. No words had been said while Furihata was thinking however there was something loud in the air. His own embarrassment, most likely.

“Oh of course! You’re _that_ Akashi!”

"Yes, I-"

“You’re the guy that Kuroko says makes very obvious stanky faces when people annoy you!”

A few people turned to this exclamation and Akashi saw the quick gradation from beige to a rich pink develop on his face at the attention.

“Sorry!” Furihata rushed to whisper and slapped a hand on his mouth. “I think I said that a bit loud.”

Stanky faces? “That is alright. A small correction though, I do not make faces at people, in almost all circumstances.” Being in control of outwardly appearance was something that had been drilled into him from a young age; Akashi didn’t have any trouble keeping personal expressions in check. “Tetsuya must’ve imagined things up.”

“…You’re kinda making a face now.”

Akashi took a sharp breath in and was about to _calmly_ retort and make yet another correction to this whole assumption Kuroko had seeded into Furihata’s head, however as he opened his mouth he noticed that there was indeed a tightness in his eyebrows. He forced himself to relax, mentally muttering a few stroppy words at Kuroko, and Furihata continued. Akashi didn’t immediately hate the slight amusement he heard in his voice, but still felt peeved at how Kuroko chooses to paint him to others. It most likely does not create a great impression.

“Anyways, sorry for all of that, and not just that but for crashing your guys' place, I wasn't really planning it, just had too much to drink. Which I guess was also my fault, but you know how it is sometimes,” he said with a shy, almost nervous smile, “but yeah I’m Furihata. You can call me Furi if you want, I’m fine either way.” He tapered it off there before his features quickly reanimated. “N-Nice meeting you of course! Kuroko has mentioned you a lot.”

His eyes, Akashi observed, fluttered a lot. _Don't apologise_ , he wanted to say - the drinking had all been down to Kuroko and his prods, as he'd found out. “The pleasure is all mine, Furi. I personally didn't hear you at all, so no 'crashing' was involved."

"Ah I'm glad, I really didn't want to disturb anyone. And sorry, I also didn't know anyone other than Kuroko was in, I would've come to say hi otherwise."

"As would I, but no matter, we're getting that done now it seems." Kuroko could also have been a better host and done the introductions himself.

"Yeah true, true. Better now than when I was off my face I guess," he rubbed the back of his head, eyes trained on his feet, "that wouldn't have been great."

Kuroko had said that Furihata became sleepy when inebriated, and that was a very tolerable type of under the influence behaviour. He doesn't think he would've minded all that much.

Furihata's eyes then looked to something on the right, and Akashi followed the direction of his gaze to spot another employee, this one clearly someone with more authority going by the accented uniform, a manager perhaps. She walked past them with another customer, a fake attentiveness masked over her features at the customer's angry gesticulating. Furihata stood straighter and adjusted the stool behind him with his foot so that it was aligned neater and didn't obstruct the aisle.

"I will not hold you up," Akashi said, "I don't doubt that out paths will soon cross again."

Furihata giggled, and reached out his hand for another attempt at a handshake between them. He had a solid grip, one that encouraged a proper handshake. Akashi was aware that he was staring a touch too intensely for what the situation required but couldn’t find the right timing to avert his gaze. It could've been down to the fact that he'd met him again in a completely different situation and was still trying to marry the two images together. The Furihata that had looked fatigued and left sticky notes with overly-detailed smileys, versus uniformed and alert Furihata.

“Yeah, I’m sure our paths will meet yet again, our destinies now forever intertwined, this,” he said in a dramatic, heavier pitch, wiggling their locked hands for emphasis, “was the seal. May we succeed in overcoming the trials of the elders and save the world from eternal ruin.”

“The elders?”

Again, Furihata quietly chuckled, skin again taking on a more saturated hue. “J-Just joking around, you said that really seriously. ‘However, I don’t doubt our paths will cross again’. It’s like something from a video game.”

“I see.” Akashi was never really one for video games and so didn't attempt to make any references to build on Furihata's. There was never the time, always something else more pressing to do. In their household 'properly stimulating' and 'mind-engaging' games such as chess and shogi were allowed - video games were never an option.

Furihata loosened his grip and Akashi took that as a cue to also let go. With the cut in skin contact he was brought back to the moment as it was in real time; time had paused in the last few moments...or sped up – it had definitely gotten a lot busier. Everything was choppy and jarring, liked he'd missed a few scenes. He checked his watch to find that he’d already spent close to half an hour getting only a small bags worth of food.

The busy noise of the supermarket flooded back and Akashi was momentarily disoriented – he didn’t usually go out and do food shopping himself, and the increased amount of people plus everyone’s general rushed pace made leaving as soon as possible the most desirable action. Where had the time gone? He must've taken longer finding all the food than he'd estimated.

Furihata waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey? You alright?”

“Yes, yes. Well, I will see you. Is this your permanent place of employment?” Akashi didn't really frequent this specific supermarket much. There was a convenience store a few streets away from Kuroko's flat which was their go-to on most occasions.

“Um, I don’t plan to stay here for like, _forever_ y'know, but for the moment yes?”

“I see. I hope the work day passes quickly.” He still had a whole stack of crates to do. Akashi hoped he hadn’t put Furihata too far behind on his work.

“Pft, don’t you worry, I’ll get though this in a flash. You keep well yeah?”

He nodded, sensing genuine concern layered in Furihata’s words, without many idea as to what this concern was for – they hadn’t exchanged much beyond names. He returned Furihata’s goodbye wave, paid for his things and left. It wasn’t until he’d gotten out past the automatic sliding doors and a whip of wind struck his face that he finally cleared out of…whatever that haze was.

A quick taxi to Kuroko’s later and the food had been unpacked and sorted into the appropriate cupboards, the recent encounter the only thing on Akashi’s mind as he navigated around the kitchen. Why did the sequence of events today seem so choppy? A small frown formed on his face as he thought some more. The day had progressed like it would do in dreams - no chronological order, with sequences cut and interspersed wherever the brain wanted. Was that something he could even have control of?

Irrelevant. _Next time_ , he tells himself, _keep better track._

Putting that aside, Furihata was, from the very brief amount of time he had to judge him, different from the rest of Kuroko’s friends (or at least the ones Akashi knew – he’d only come to know of Furihata recently). 'Mellow' would describe him well - someone normal, a rarity in their friendship groups. His mental image of him had upgraded significantly after today.

He spent the evening reading, savouring the gentle peace he had here over the oppressive stuffiness back home. Ironic, when you factor in for the fact that Tokyo was never quiet, never at rest.

It was only after he placed a bookmark between the pages that he remembered the trigger to their interaction in the first place. He slapped a hand over his face, irritated at his own forgetfulness.

He never actually asked Furihata to help him find that sauce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa it's been a whiilllleee - still stuck on this ship lol. Going by my plan, this is going to be pretty hefty, so I hope you'll cruise along. I'm being quite experimental with the characterisation with these two, wanted to try something different, so lemme know whether it works or if it makes you wanna fite me


	2. Chapter 2

“You seem to be in a hurry.” Akashi voiced, eyes on his book, not really registering the words. Kuroko flitted to and from rooms and constantly caught in his peripherals, which distracted his reading.

“I got the time wrong, should’ve set the alarm earlier. I need to be out in about ten minutes and still haven’t showered.” Kuroko replied.

“Something important?”

“A friend is coming here to pick me up, we agreed to go shopping together.”

“I see.”

A small chime went off just as Kuroko passed the living room. Without having checked his phone he said "He's here." There wasn’t any worry in his tone, however the slight angle in his brows hinted at urgency.

Akashi wasn’t quite sure what the rush was. Surely they were not tied to strict timings if it was just leisure shopping. And it was still morning, there was plenty of the day left, an extra half hour wouldn’t waste that much time. “Is that a problem?”

“I don’t want to make him wait outside.”

The weather today definitely wasn’t pleasant - dry and sharply cold, bit at the face. Kuroko began tapping the side of his phone, agitated.

“I don’t mind him coming up here, if that’s your concern. You can go shower and I’ll greet him, I doubt you’ll be too long. What is his name? Have I seen him before?” He guessed it wasn't someone he knew, as their shared friends wouldn't think twice about simply barging in, Kuroko present or not.

“That would be good,” he said, relieved, “I’ll try to be quick. It's someone called Furihata-kun, you haven’t met.”

 _Furihata_. Akashi wanted to counter this immediately because they had, in fact, met, however by the time he’d recovered from all the memories of their encounter a few weeks ago the door to the bathroom had been shut.

Almost immediately he was rushing around like Kuroko had, correcting the pillows to lie neater on the sofa and rearranged things on the table. There was a hyperactive buzz in him that urged him to hurry up and get out. He quickly put his shoes on and neglected taking a coat (just like he neglected to lock the door) and made his way out of the apartment.

Furihata stood outside with his back to him, overlooking the traffic. He had his hands dug deep into his pockets (of a puffy coat that practically engulfed him and made his top half look comically unbalanced), and that plus the hunched posture and bouncy leg was enough for Akashi to see that he was cold.

He came closer, a hand carefully hovering at Furihata’s back. “Good morning.”

Furihata jerked away from his unexpected greeting in a way that brought him closer to the road, and what resulted was an odd combination of actions: Akashi grasped Furihata by the forearm to prevent him getting any closer to the cars, and Furihata, now destabilised and squawking, flapped his arms out to cling on to anything that would steady him, which ended up being Akashi’s shoulders.

His grip was tight and the momentum brought him well into Akashi’s space, and Akashi (dumbly, inappropriately, unthinkingly) circled his waist, an action that brought them closer still, Furihata's coat deflating a bit at its compression.

So.

Furihata was no longer wobbling and was well out of the way of the road. Furihata was also very firmly pressed into his whole front and Akashi had now held him for a duration of time that was awkward.

He cleared his throat and relaxed his arms, unlocking them from each other. He hadn’t intended to spook him so much and should’ve known better to give warning. Kuroko was rubbing off on him. Next thing you know Akashi will have passively learned all of Kuroko’s phantom skills and would be walking around scaring people out of their skin on the daily.

He had to admit however, current predicament aside, the whole situation nearly got an amused breath out of him - Furihata’s wide eyes alone had almost spiralled him into laughter. Somehow, and Akashi felt a little cruel for thinking so, his jumpiness was endearing.

“Sorry! Are yo-“

“I am fine, don’t worry.” He forced himself to flatten the smile on his face. “Tetsuya was still getting ready, I thought it would be better for you to come wait inside. I apologise for startling you.”

“No no, I was spacing out, my fault. I wouldn’t mind going up though. Had to leave a little earlier cause later buses were delayed so I would’ve been like, very late. They’re doing roadworks so everything’s been doing different routes. B-But yeah, a lot of unnecessary information there, sorry. Phew," he wiped his forehead, "that was quite the ride there, thought I was for sure going to land on my ass. Let’s go up?”

“I wouldn't have let you fall, don't worry. Let’s.” Akashi agreed. No good would come out of them lingering in the cold. Together they began walking back inside. “You look well. What falls under roadworks? Are they resurfacing it?” He hadn’t seen Furihata since their meeting at the shop, which was now a solid three weeks ago. Some form of catching up was in order.

Furihata looked surprised at the question. “Yeah it’s sort of a mix actually. One of my neighbours had been writing complaints for ages, cause she has to drive down that way every day for work, and they finally came to fix things and decided to tackle everything at once.”

They were in the lobby now and Akashi, as subtly as he could manage, steered them away from the lift towards the stairs. It would add a few extra minutes.

Furihata chewed on the nail on his thumb, continuing. “They’re filling potholes and refreshing the road markings. And I think changing some pipes too? I don’t know, it all looks unearthed and chaotic, definitely can't have buses or cars going over at the moment. Which actually made her even angrier." He whispered, as though his neighbour's struggle was a secret.

“That certainly does seem like quite a big project. Has it affected your travel to work?”

“Nah I’ve been okay so far, it’s not near where I live and I can still get to the metro station okay.”

“At least there’s that.”

They got back into the apartment (Akashi initially twisting his key in to unlock, only to find that he hadn’t locked it in the first place) and he was quick to offer to help Furihata with his jacket, to which he got a stuttered affirmative and a quick thank you.

Furihata was obviously familiar with the flat and knew where everything was. Again, it struck him odd that they hadn’t met at an earlier point in time. Akashi was around here fairly regularly, and so was Furihata, clear in his easy navigation of the place.

He went to make himself something hot to drink and Akashi simply followed him, excitement still tight in his muscles, although none of this was visible or noticeable to anyone but him.

“Do you want to have something as well?” Furihata asked, and reached into the cupboards overhead to take out a few boxes and containers. “I know Kuroko won’t really drink much of his tea or whatever, so I never make him any. I think he kinda only likes cold drinks. But like, intentionally cold. Like milkshake. Or that iced tea they sell in the shop near Hotto Motto’s- maybe not Hotto Motto’s, but there’s a restaurant type thing there. I think.”

That made sense. Akashi had always wondered why Kuroko could never seem to manage a cup of coffee. Most of the time it was left to go cold and eventually had to be tipped down the sink.

A restaurant type thing next to Hotto Motto's. Akashi went through his mental catalogue of all the food places he'd seen around, trying to find something that fit the criteria. There were a few that fit the description, but he remembered only one that focused on solely serving cold food. “Are you thinking of the one next to Yoshikoya? With the purple décor and the penguin mascot?”

Furihata snapped his fingers, expression bright with recollection. “That’s the one! I took so many pictures of that penguin, you won't believe. But yeah, Kuroko likes the stuff there, they serve a lot of cold things, like ice creams and yoghurts and all that.”

“It certainly does stand out with its look. I’ve passed it but have never thought to go in.”

“It was pretty funny actually, a few weeks ago Kuroko invited Kagami-kun to come there with us, and you just see this huge dude sitting in a small chair trying to hold a spoon that was like, and I’m not exaggerating, the size of his pinky. His knees kept hitting the table and- oh- sorry, did you want tea or coffee?”

“That’s alright, I always enjoy hearing about Taiga’s self-inflicted humiliation. Just the coffee there is fine, the one with the gold band.” He came to lean his hip against the counter so that he was facing Furihata’s profile at a more open angle. “How much food did he get? It usually takes about five full meals in one sitting to get Taiga to feel at least partially…non-hungry.”

“Oh my god, he ordered so much, honestly,” he said, pouring the water for their drinks. Furihata had put a lot of sugar into his tea, little rough white cubes plopped on top of the tea bag enough to nearly come up to the halfway point. “Like, I thought that since it’s just a little dessert place- well, they had a few sandwiches as well, but still he ordered a lot. At the beginning I said let’s all – ”

While listening Akashi went to get milk from the fridge and came back to stand beside Furihata, undoing the lid. He stood slightly taller than him, just enough to be able to see past Furihata’s shoulder and watch him stir coffee granules.

“ – split evenly at the end, but Kuroko-kun said ‘no, let Kagami-kun pay for his own, me and you can split ours’. I thought at the beginning that maybe it would be mean to do that but they’ve been friends for a while right so just left it, and then after I realised why. Kagami-kun’s bill was high, I wouldn’t have been able to pay, even if we did split.”

“Tetsuya made the right call, I don’t doubt from experience. Even I would have some reservations covering his share.”

Furihata hummed in agreement, expression amused, and stepped away, presumably to get the milk, but Akashi held the bottle out to him, ready.

“Oh, thanks, I didn’t even notice you getting it.”

“No problem.”

The tea to milk ratio in Furihata’s cup was very skewed. The tea barely made it past the sugar cubes before they dissolved, and the milk filled the rest. Tea swirled with the milk for a few moments, unwilling to combine, time-lapsed clouds taking over the brown until Furihata forced it to stir into one mass.

Furihata put what he'd got out back and handed Akashi his coffee, holding it by the rim so that Akashi could grip the handle.

"We can..." he started, gaze not fully reaching Akashi's eyes. "We can go there sometime, if you haven’t been before. It’s nice- I mean, I like it, I don’t know if-“

“I’ll trust your judgement, I’m available this Saturday, or next week’s Tuesday.”

“That’s- quick, wow.” Furihata laughed, giddy, “But I’m good for Saturday as well!”

They migrated into the limited living room space. Kuroko had done a lot to maximise the amount of free space so that it didn’t feel cramped (which it was at the beginning. On the day Akashi came to help with the moving the flat had sofas that were overly large for the available space and none of the furniture fit in a way that looked good). That meant no decorations that added too much thickness from the walls and no leaving things about. It was still, however, ‘dressed up’. Kuroko had put up a string of lights that Momoi had gifted him a while back around the perimeter, which shouldn’t have looked as okay as they did - blue heart LED fairy lights - but it fit.

There was also at least one painting on every wall, which added a surprising amount of colour and brought your eye away from the peeling silicone on the windowsills and the hairline cracks along the lengths of the walls. It was homely, in its own way. Kuroko wasn’t really one for art, but it became a joke of sorts over the years. Every one of his birthdays after that one time Kuroko had mentioned that he needed something to cover up the flaws on the walls resulted in him receiving pretty much nothing _but_ paintings as gifts. He was certain he'd just been selling them off after he couldn't fit anymore inside.

Furihata sat himself at the end of the sofa, and Akashi took the armchair directly next to that.

“So Akashi-san, do you stay over here often?”

“Yes, very frequently. My family home is in Kyoto, but most of the business operates here in the capital, so I usually need to be over for a few days.” There was of course his apartment, which was not too far away from Tokyo’s centre, but Akashi preferred to forget his ownership of that.

“Ooh I see, that makes sense. I definitely prefer Kyoto.”

Akashi rose his eyebrows in question, encouraging more elaboration.

“I’ve only been a handful of times, but it’s just more historical and…enriched? Different atmosphere. Tokyo can be too much sometimes. I only have good memories of Kyoto, we’d always go there and mum would let us buy all of their snacks, which were always pretty. She used to never let us have sweet things otherwise.”

“So is it more the actual place or the fact that you were allowed candy?” Akashi enquired, amused. His mind supplied him with an imagined scene of a younger Furihata going to the shops and getting handcrafted traditional candy. Akashi of course had no idea what Furihata looked like as a child, and the scene was filled with Akashi’s own perception of Kyoto, but it still built a heart-warming picture.

“Um…both? I mean, the place more, it was nice…but like the sweets were a very big part of the experience…whoa, I actually don’t know. I haven’t been in a while now. The sweets were definitely good.”

“I’m very familiar with Kyoto, if you ever want a more local tour. Were you born here?”

“T-Thanks, I’ll take you up on that. And yeah,” Furihata spread his arms out at himself and winked, face a little pink, and Akashi’s heart did one solid ‘thump’ as if in reply, “city boy all the way.”

“Furihata-kun is not as cool as he’s making himself out to be, Akashi-kun, I guarantee the tea will be tipped over at one point.”

Akashi was a little fazed at Kuroko’s sudden reappearance but didn’t indicate any of that externally. Furihata however, _was_ fazed, and Akashi hid his smile with a sip of coffee at his wide eyes and bodily jerk away from Kuroko, constricted by the arm of the sofa.

He recovered and let a breath out, clutching his chest. “Jeez Kuroko, I have a weak heart, I swear one day-“

“You have a heart condition?” Akashi cut in, concern prominent in his voice without his permission. He internally cringed at the amount of emotion in his tone as soon as the words were out, but even worse he felt awful for getting them to take the stairs instead of opting for the lift.

“No! Please don’t worry, I’m just uh, being dramatic.”

Kuroko's gaze was on him and he chose not to give any further reaction to that. “Anyway,” Kuroko said, voice gentle, “I’m ready to go, Furihata-kun. Sorry for the hold up.”

Furihata got up from the sofa and brushed down his clothes. “No that’s cool, I think we would’ve been good even if we went a couple of hours later. I’ll uh,” he looked between Akashi and Kuroko, uncertain of himself. Kuroko’s attention was on Akashi. “I’ll just get my coat and stuff.”

Akashi swallowed down his discomfort, eager to just move on, but going by the look Kuroko had fixed on him he wasn’t going to get off easy. Furihata rustled his things in the entrance corridor, not close enough to catch any of Kuroko’s soft words.

“Looks like you’re familiar with each other.” He stated, and this quickly brought Akashi into the ‘cautious and wary’ zone. Nothing good ever came out of Kuroko digging, which was exactly what he was doing. Nothing good for the target, at least. He was sure Kuroko basked in being able to latch on and subtly hit out all the things one wished to keep personal and unacknowledged.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had piqued Kuroko’s attention, and so he wasn’t sure on what information he needed to keep omitted. “Yes, a few weeks back at his place of employment. Chance meeting.”

“That’s good. You’re not usually very open for conversation with people you don’t know. Nor is Furihata-kun. Nice to see you meshed well.”

Kuroko was putting an emphasis on something, an emphasis that was lost on Akashi because he couldn’t discern where exactly it belonged or what it implied.

“Well, I suppose we did meet by association, I wouldn’t say complete strangers was the starting point.” He said.

Kuroko slightly tilted his head, managing a perfectly smug expression despite the neutrally flat look in his features. “No, definitely not strangers.”

Akashi got up to signal that he was finished with this odd talk. Kuroko looked happy with himself and it put a light scowl on Akashi’s face. He was missing something.

“Hey.” Furihata quickly swung back into the living room, puffy coat on. “I left my phone.”

“Where is it that you two are going?” he asked, Kuroko beating Furihata to the answer.

“Just shopping. Furihata-kun got paid yesterday and we both want to look at some clothes. I was thinking of getting a new rug for the bathroom as well. Text me if there’s anything you need, I’ll-”

A loud thud disrupted Kuroko’s sentence and a ceramic clang followed. They both turned to catch Furihata’s frantic movements in trying to catch the cup he’d knocked. He dropped his phone to prioritise the mug and then squeaked when he realised he'd practically chucked his phone onto a hard surface. Akashi bit his lip to block the laugh bubbling up, reminding himself to be polite. He's been very prone to laughing today.

Some tea splashed past the rim of the cup but thankfully none of it got on any of the fabrics. Akashi stepped in before Furihata had a chance to apologise and got a cloth to sop it up, which Furihata reached out to take but Akashi didn’t allow.

After another few thank yous Furihata finally picked up his phone. Akashi didn’t comment on the noticeable redness in his ears, partially because Furihata hadn’t antagonised him over his own slip up earlier but mostly because he didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

Kuroko held no such reservations, presumable from them knowing each other longer, and didn’t let the spotlight be taken away from Furihata’s clumsiness. “Who was it that said a cup would be knocked over, maybe ten, twenty, minutes ago?”

“Oh shut up. You jinxed it.” Furihata huffed, bottom lip jutted up into a pout.

The strength in it along with the way Furihata’s brows came together in annoyance induced yet another smile on Akashi's face. “That's probably right, Tetsuya.”

“Wow Akashi-kun,” Kuroko started, voice completely flat and not at all wowed, “both unrestrained giggling and support of quack concepts like jinxes in one day, something must have hit you hard.”

“I do think karma is an active mechanism in our lives and will make no comment on jinxes. There was no giggling, your hearing’s failing you.”

“Um I’ll go put my shoes on yeah guys? We uh, we should be going now.” Furihata stepped in before any further retorts were made and Akashi was silently thankful for the break – Kuroko was being rather testy.

Eventually they both went to put their shoes and got going. Kuroko was out first, standing just past the boundary line between the apartment flooring and the carpeted corridor outside, door held open and focused on his phone.

Furihata sat on the raised part of the floor, trying to shake his feet into his shoes. They'd already spent an extra forty minutes in the flat past the time they were going to leave and Kuroko's earlier stress about hurrying to get out now seemed ubiquitous.

Akashi squatted next to him and pointed at the shoes. “The laces are too tight at the top, that might help.”

“T-Thanks, I can usually wiggle them on without having to undo them. Saves me doing the laces again.”

Furihata’s eyes moved too much, like he didn’t want to be caught looking at any specific thing. It made Akashi’s own eyes feel strained. He couldn’t get much prolonged eye contact between them. Furihata was fairly talkative, they didn't seem to struggle with conversation, but he was also fairly avoidant of directness. It was an interesting mix. Akashi was still trying to map his character. He was glad they got to talk a little more today, although again they were under time constraints.

“You don’t like doing your laces?”

“I _can_ do them! I learnt ages ago! When I was five!” He exclaimed, huffy. Akashi willed himself to not smile again. Whether he achieved that or not was debatable. The sudden energy finally popped Furihata’s foot into the shoe, and the other went in without struggle.

“I wouldn't even dare make such an accusation.” Akashi quipped, holding a hand out as they both rose to stand.

“I’ll forgive it just this once.” Furihata murmured, a fake sulk on his lips and one finger held up for stress before his expression relaxed. “Thank you for keeping me company, I guess I'll see you soon.”

“My pleasure, enjoy your outing.” He waved Furihata off and it was only then he remembered that Kuroko had been there as well. Their eyes hit each other, and although Kuroko’s face was neutral, as it was ninety percent of the time, Akashi was uneasy with the glint in his eyes. He felt guilty suddenly, pinned, without really understanding the trigger for those emotions in that moment.

Akashi locked the door as they left. He wondered what Furihata’s shifts were like, how busy he was throughout the week. Kuroko had mentioned that they'd met in university and he was curious what he'd studied prior to his work now, what his plans were for the future. He still had a lot to uncover regarding him.

It wasn't even five minutes before the doorbell rang. Had they left something behind?

He opened the door to a panting Furihata, bent over with his hands on his knees, Kuroko’s bag on his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“Hello again, is...is everything alright?”

“Yeah everything’s great. Wow I'm unfit." he panted and took a few moments to regain his breath before he straightened to stand fully. "I was just thinking, um, if I could get your number? So we can arrange Saturday and everything.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Akashi's hand on the door handle.

“Of course.” Why was he being so forgetful recently? Akashi should have asked himself, he made the suggestion to go see the place in the first place. _Basic manners_ , he chided himself.

He sequenced his number to Furihata, who held his phone with slightly shaky hands. He hoped he wouldn’t get too cold without gloves. And hoped Kuroko wouldn’t get cold as well of course.

Speaking of Kuroko. “Did you not ask Tetsuya? It would’ve saved you making your way back up again.”

“I did, but- but he said you changed phone recently and he doesn’t have your new number.” He explained, and then bit his thumb in thought. “I guess you guys don’t need to call that much if you live together. But yeah, he didn’t have it.”

Complete lies - he’s had the same mobile phone for two years. What was Kuroko hoping to achieve, making his friend waste his energy and time retrieving a number he could’ve provided in seconds?

“Well, I hope now we’ll keep in more frequent contact.”

“M-Me too, and I’m leaving for real now,” he joked, “have a good week!”

“You too, you too.”

The click of the door shutting resonated for a few moments until all sound evened out into silence. He stood where he was for a few minutes, unsure of what to do with himself, restless.

He decided he’d just neaten the place up a bit, put the cups away, and would then go look through emails, find something to do and exhibit at least a little amount of productivity for the day.

His own coffee was completely drained, however Furihata’s cup was only half empty. Akashi swirled it with a few measured swings of the wrist, and mind empty, brought it up to his lips to try.

Sugar hit his receptors first, and that was the dominant taste throughout. His eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched at the cloying sweetness. Akashi saw how many sugar cubes Furihata had put in (a lot), he wasn’t sure why he was surprised that it was so syrupy. He could feel his teeth zinging and becoming rough like they do after drinking cola.

Maybe that was why he was so jittery. That much sugar couldn’t be good for anyone.

\------

Kuroko took out his phone, remembering that he’d felt a vibration a couple of hours ago. Furihata walked a few steps ahead, wallowing in what had transpired back in the apartment.

"Man that was so embarrassing," Furihata whined. "I was so clumsy. I thought I was behind all that now. Oh my god," he slapped a hand over his eyes, voice completely defeated, "So I basically fell on him, then I was talking about my own stuff non-stop, then I made him worry, then I spilled that stupid tea, and then I-"

"Furihata-kun, I don't think Akashi-kun minded as much as you think he did." Akashi himself had been a lot less composed than he usually was. Kuroko never thought he'd see a day where the Akashi Seijuro would giggle. It just seemed unimaginable. Nothing's impossible, he guessed.

Furihata let out a heavy breath and dropped his hand from his face, sagging along with his sigh. "Akashi-san is a little intense."

"He can be."

He flicked through a few notifications, before opening the message app, Akashi’s text at the top and most recent out of the rest.

[I think you need to arrange an intervention for your friend. Sugar consumption at that level could result in actual heart issues in the future.]

“Ooh.” Furihata drawled, seemingly forgetting his earlier issues, and turned round fully to face Kuroko, walking backwards. “What are we smiling at?” He tilted his head, hands behind his back. “Is it Kagami-kun?”

Kuroko shook his head. “You’ve got a very uninterested person interested, Furihata-kun.”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t expecting it, but I do see the compatibility.”

“Wasn’t expecting what?”

Kuroko didn’t deign him with a response and continued texting. [Arrange it yourself, I’m sure Furihata-kun would be happy for you to judge and correct his lifestyle choices. Maybe he’d find it _sweet_.]

[Funny Tetsuya, very funny. I happen to notice that this number, the same you’ve had access to for years, seems to be working just fine.]

[I know, it’s strange. I hope you and Furihata-kun are able to communicate without the same technical issues I was having.]

“Kuroko…your expression is a little scary, maybe stop smiling like that...people will think we’re up to something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the puns
> 
> ...I’ve always been pun ishingly bad at them.


	3. Chapter 3

Their visit to the café, called Pingu, as they’d found out, loosened him up to the point where Akashi was, frankly, acting a little dumb.

To him nothing other than Furihata talking and the muffled background noise of the café seemed to matter. No worries bumped around his brain, no incomplete tasks nagged him, nothing. He couldn’t say he disliked it, however that selective forgetfulness had its consequences.

In his head he’d assumed they would spend a maximum of two hours in the café, with potential for a small walk before they needed to go their way. In reality they’d spent close to four hours chatting, ordering funky desserts and colourful drinks.

Looking back on it he was pretty certain the food was mediocre, as was the rest of the place (the interior was admittedly eye-catching in its design, made for a good background in pictures), but Furihata’s enjoyment of it somehow elevated his own perception and he’d consumed a lot more than was strictly necessary. He wondered what Furihata would think of actual high-end restaurants with objectively good food.

Them meeting, this time of their own volition and without needing to rush anywhere else helped Akashi consolidate two things:

Furihata was extremely good company.  
Furihata was extremely bad for his time management.

Going (significantly) over the predicted two hours put Akashi’s whole day behind schedule. On his way back to Kuroko’s apartment he promptly remembered all the work he’d wanted to get done in time for the next day and in the end had to spread it past just that one evening.

How he let hours go by without noticing, watch ticking on his wrist and all other indicators of time passing around him (the purple clock that had been right above Furihata’s head in their booth; the inside of the café dimming with the sun going down; the growing coolness in the environment with the approach of evening) genuinely stumped him.

He didn’t regret it, in no way did he feel like he’d wasted his time, however he should have planned better.

That aside, he now hasn’t seen Furihata for over two and a half weeks, nearly three. They’ve been messaging, but no further plans to meet have been made. Akashi didn’t want to impose nor did he want to step over any boundaries – he and Furihata have just, at least in his view, made it past the border of acquaintances and were hopefully edging closer towards amicable, firm friendship. He didn’t want to delay their progression and being insistent and pesky could make that very thing happen.

But he did want to see him.

On his way from the station the view of the shop which Furihata worked at slowly approached his line of sight. He didn’t need to get anything. _You don’t even know whether he’s at work right now_ , he said to himself, own voice mocking and disapproving, _and even if he is, would you go so far as to disrupt someone while they’re at work?_

The closer he got the antsier he became, a feeling he didn't encounter often. He only had so many steps before he’d be past the store and the opportunity would be gone altogether. Would a quick hello really be so bad? Why was this making him so irrationally anxious? His heart rate had accelerated but his walking remained purposefully slow.

He could buy that rug Kuroko forgot to get?

 _No_ , he urged himself, _excuses_ , _Furihata wouldn’t suddenly disappear, you will meet again at some point. Patience. Carry on walking._

The sign of the shop’s name was now clearly visible – he could easily see all the grit and debris in a thin coat on the plastic and he was close enough to peer inside, could see all the bustle through the windows that panned the whole front side of the store. He scanned through the workers standing at the tills, eyes eager to spot a certain someone, but to no luck.

At the very last stretch, at the point where another pace forward would put him further from the shop than closer to it, Akashi’s body turned, uncaring how he appeared to onlookers. His earlier resolve had disintegrated and he tampered down all the judgemental thoughts that spiralled at his conflicting actions.

Bright lights and fluorescent sale signs didn’t do much to distract him from looking for Furihata. He tried to make his stroll around the shop look casual – grabbed a basket and walked around at a leisurely pace, shopping normally. He blended fairly well save for his impatient eyes, which at the intensity of colour that Akashi had stood out.

Akashi didn’t remember a time where he’d felt disappointment as heavy and crushing as he did now, both at the situation and at himself, Furihata nowhere in sight. There were so many factors that could’ve contributed to Furihata not being here today, yet he dismissed each one for what? Hope? _Only_ _fools rush in_.

Trying to maintain some semblance of control, Akashi relaxed the grip he had on the basket handle and took a heavy inhale, ignoring the pressing upset in his chest. He’d go round and pick up a few things, maybe some office supplies, maybe fruit, to get at least some use out of his impulsive decision. He didn’t have an issue going shopping spontaneously, however his reason for doing so today was just childish and embarrassing.

The strawberries looked sad and stale, their flowers sagging and the tone of their red skin not at all enticing, so Akashi forewent getting any fruit. Much of the rest on display didn’t look too appealing, and he moved on without getting any food. This then brought him to the stationery aisle. He wasn’t particularly low on supplies, however it was one of those things that would always have a use. Staples, for instance, were never underappreciated in an office.

With his concentration on which pack to get he hadn’t noticed that someone came to stand just a touch behind his shoulder, closer than would be proper for a passerby. His hand reached out to take a box but his movement was quickly aborted by a sudden voice at his side.

“I wouldn’t get any of the ones here, they always jam, cheap stuff. It messed up my stapler.”

He didn’t jerk like he would’ve had it been Kuroko, in fact his surprise was a happy one, after he got over the initial shock, because the voice was a familiar one and his mood elevated almost immediately. He took a step back, underestimating just how close Furihata was and lightly bumped into him before moving to stand face to face, bodies opposing each other.

“Ah sorry for creeping up on you, although not really ‘cause that was intentional.” Furihata said in lieu of a greeting, a somewhat devious smile on his face, one which Akashi returned.

He felt cosmically lucky, as though some higher power in the universe had took pity on him and his foolishness and brought Furihata here. Akashi did not actually believe in such concepts but thanked his luck anyway.

“Either way apology accepted.” He had so many things to say that he didn’t really know where to start. “You look good.” Furihata wasn’t wearing his work clothes, instead donning the same puffy coat he’d seen before, unzipped. A loose and casual look. “Well I mean, you look well.” He of course looked good as well, but Akashi thought that to be too direct in this instance.

“Thanks.” Furihata grinned, eyes fluttering with a sheen of shyness. “You look a bit tired. Long week?”

“Long month. I finish a batch of work only to be given double, but I guess that is how the cycle goes. What brings you here today? Did you just finish?”

His previous woes about not seeing Furihata had completely diminished, along with all of his self-criticisms about being too excited at the mere possibility of spotting him. It’s practically the same as it had been at Pingu – once he got absorbed into Furihata and his bubble everything else was secondary.

“Nope, not today, I took a day off. My cousin has an exam coming up and she’s a bit stressed, thought I’d get her some highlighters and pens and stuff, she likes colour in her notes. I think you should really rest up, like not being mean but you really do look like you need it. At least it’s Friday. You’re off for the weekend right?” Furihata tilted his head, and the only suitable adjective to describe the action was ‘cute’.

“Yes, no working hours over Saturday and Sunday.” Officially that is. Unofficially he still needed to write up a few reports and make a couple of phone calls that technically should wait until regular business days.

“That’s good! Gives you some down time, you should take it.”

Akashi smiled at the tone in that, the ‘should’ a lot firmer than it needed to be and the inflection suggesting that he _will_ in fact be resting, and if that wasn’t enough then his pointed expression reinforced the point. Furihata’s small concerns warmed him up in a way that went beyond temperature but stayed below the discomfort at being fussed over. 

It was a silly feeling (just like the other majority of feelings that went through him when it came to Furihata), he typically didn’t enjoy people fretting over him and his personal business. With Furihata however the worry felt caring more than anything else and dismissing it as politeness not only seemed cold but also incorrect, because you could tell that it wasn’t just that.

“So, are you going back to Kuroko’s tonight? Or are you leaving to Kyoto?”

“No, I arrived only an hour ago, and yes, will be going to Tetsuya’s. Have you got any plans for the weekend?”

“Ah you know me.” Furihata swung his hand in a dismissive manner. Akashi chuckled at his expression. “Forever busy with washing dishes, watching dramas, uh, not doing the work I keep telling myself I’ll do, but definitely doing all the stuff I shouldn’t be doing.”

“Is that so?” Akashi enquired, eyebrows slanted in exaggeration with the question. He was glad they were now comfortable with talking to each other freely. Furihata was wobbly at times with his speech but always fed Akashi’s questions and vice versa, and the enthusiasm was pleasant. Balanced. He thinks he owes this newfound comfort around each other to their time at Pingu. They’d found out a lot more about each other and Furihata became more talkative.

He came to stand a little closer so that he could catch all of Furihata’s intentionally theatrical expressions (not that he was standing far to begin with). “Such as?”

“Eating packaged ramen with spam cooked in way too much grease, picking at the threads on the sofa that the cat the previous owner had had scratched up that I should’ve covered ages ago but don’t and only make it worse, not clearing out the nasty spider web in the corner that is full of dead, dry bugs- o-okay, I think I’ve shared too much there. You,” He punctuated with a prod at Akashi’s chest, “Always let me talk too much.”

He didn’t know what outcome Furihata himself thought his pouting achieved, but for Akashi it was the exact opposite of a deterrent. He gently grasped Furihata’s hand away to discontinue the prods and brought their hands down to momentarily hang at their sides, before their fingers smoothly disentangled.

“No no, do go on.” Akashi was rather amused at the imagery this all provided. So Furihata was bothered enough to clean dishes but not bothered enough to clear a web that would take him less than thirty seconds swipe at. He probably doesn’t eat too healthily. Akashi has not forgotten about his large appetite for sweet things.

Akashi also knows that he is not put off in the slightest at any of these, funnily enough.

“Nope I refuse. Next thing you’ll know I’d accidentally spill that I, a man approaching my mid-twenties, have a habit of chewing my nails, and then that would be the beginning of the end.”

Akashi had picked up on that - Furihata nibbled at his thumb, mostly when concentrating. It didn’t seem too detrimental. “Truly, I better stop urging you on then.”

“Yeah.” Furihata giggled. His shoulders bounced with the action and his puffy coat briefly covered his mouth, bunching around his neck in a very snuggly way. “I think that’s best.”

Akashi was floating. What a pleasant turn of events. He never really recognised how strung he was until he relaxed and eased out of it properly – when you are in a state of stress more often than not, it practically becomes your normality, a skewed one, and anything less than that feels alien.

“I guess you better get home then,” Furihata suggested, rocking on his feet, “So you can rest up and everything, it’s getting kinda late.”

“I’m fine.”

“Akashi-san, you need to give yourself a break here and there. Sorry I’ve been kind of quiet with all of that, I had a lot of uni stuff, so juggling between the two was a bit-“

“As I think I mentioned last time, just Akashi is okay, no need for the formalities. You’re studying?” The more he learned about Furihata the more curious he got. It wasn’t that Furihata’s life was majorly exciting and surprising at every turn, but there were layers that he didn’t really reveal unless asked about. Akashi asked a lot. It made him wince sometimes, when their scenarios together replayed in his head at night and he paid attention to just how inquisitive he was with him.

“I mean, I feel like it’s not _too_ formal. And yeah, only part time though. I’m kind of a late bloomer I guess, didn’t really do well the first time round so I dropped out…” he looked at Akashi with caution in his eyes, gauging his reaction. Akashi wasn’t sure what he was looking for but if it was mean-spirited judgement he certainly wouldn’t find it. “Kinda dallied for a bit and decided later to go at it again. It’s cool now, I’m managing. A lot of it is online actually.”

“You were okay with a simple ‘Furi’, I feel ‘Akashi’ would be on the same level of address. What is it that you’re studying?”

“Alright alright, Akashi it is, if you’re cool with it. Biology, actually. I want to get into research at some point, or at least assisting, um, I dunno. Anyways, I’ll-“

Biology. He was interested in what Furihata had studied the first time round. Kuroko had mentioned that they’d met in university, so now he could assume that this was during that first time. It would be nice if they had more time to discuss this, clear up the timeline of events Akashi had constructed thus far.

“Did you want to come with? Have dinner with us?” Akashi asked, as though the property was his. Had he asked Kuroko if he was okay with spontaneous guests? No, he hadn’t. Had he, once again, made an impulsive decision to fit his own selfish agenda? Yes, without hesitation.

“Are you sure? Is Kuroko cool with that? I don’t want to barge in. If you guys just want to-”

“Yes, he’ll be fine.” Hopefully. Either way, Akashi would prefer for Furihata to drop by.

“Okay awesome. Do you guys need any food for dinner? I’ll buy.”

“No, that will not be necessary.”

“…What’s the no to?”

“Both. We have food, and I will cover any expenses.”

“Nope,” Furihata popped the ‘p’, “My treat. You should accept when people offer. How about takeaway? It is Friday after all.”

Despite Akashi’s refusal Furihata presented him with a compromise – he would get snacks and desserts while they were still in the shop, while Furihata would pay for the takeaway. Akashi wouldn’t deem it a fair compromise, but nevertheless left the store with two bags full of sweets and crisps, packages and brands he’d never seen before rustling against his sides. Furihata obviously knew where everything was in the shop and it didn’t take long to pick out the things he wanted.

They walked home and Akashi didn’t let a single second of silence get between them – he asked Furihata about his course (“I’m in third year now, one more after this.”), why Biology (“I kinda always liked it in school, and my parents said it’s a really useful subject. There wasn’t really much else I wanted to do, just want a degree.”), how he’s been (“Not bad, just quite a lot of overtime. Picked up a lot of hours last week.”) and a myriad of other things. He didn’t filter anything, the words came as they were.

It made him feel like a child annoying older peers with endless questions, but he couldn’t quell his excitement, and Furihata never showed signs of being too bothered. They made it to the apartment in double the time it would usually take, walking at snail pace, conversation flowing the whole way.

Once in Furihata helped him unpack all the fake, zero nutrition food they’d bought and they lingered in the kitchen. Kuroko wasn’t in, be that good or bad, and so it was just the two of them. He dropped Kuroko a quick message.

“Man, you guys always keep it so tidy here.”

Furihata had taken off his jacket and again made himself at home. His nonchalance put Akashi at ease, as it didn’t feel like he was pandering to a guest but just hosting a friend. _Which he is now_ , he corrected.

“I can’t take much credit, Tetsuya is the primary occupant. He doesn’t like it to be cramped, and since the space here is fairly minimal in size he keeps it as tidy as possible.”

“That makes sense. My place is a studio, so I’ve only got one big room and a separate bathroom, and it’s honestly one big mess.”

Akashi wanted to see. “Have you had it a while?”

“Not really, I rented it after my first year of uni. Like, the second time round. Ah,” He sighed, falling onto the sofa. “Glad this week’s over. So, what do you want to do?”

“I can’t really predict what time Tetsuya will return. It might be worth ordering food slightly later, just in case. In the meantime…”

He wasn’t sure. He never really did much in this apartment aside from working and reading. Kuroko had some films but he hadn’t watched any and so couldn’t really give a recommendation. Watching a film also seemed like a waste, they wouldn’t really be able to talk.

“Oh I know! Kuroko’s got cards somewhere…” Furihata swiftly got up and dug through the shelves in the coffee table. Akashi came to stand behind him as he carefully ruffled through the drawer, and his eyebrows rose as Furihata retrieved a stack of cards, held together by a sparkly hairband.

“Bingo! Do you know any games?”

“I used to play bridge.”

“Huh, I can’t play that. My mum loves it though. And solitaire as well.” He paused, untying the hairband and sifting through the cards, turning them all the same way up. He then turned around to Akashi, and with a wink suggested: “Strip poker?”

“I- that would not be appro-“

“I’m just kidding, my god, your face.”

Akashi basked in Furihata’s laughter, felt validated, even if it was at his own expense (and even if his face was flaming).

In the end they settled for poker (the normal variety, no removal of clothing involved), a game they both knew, and placed bets with all the candies and snacks they’d bought. Akashi wasn’t all that interested in the sweets, but he did have an incentive – win the sweets so as to reduce the amount of sugar Furihata could obtain. Furihata was the opposite, his goal was to retain as much sugar as possible, so they managed to generate a strong competitive mood between them.

After a few rounds of Akashi winning Furihata flagged, sulky at his lack of winnings. He’d been giving Akashi looks, to which he almost succumbed to but resisted. Just. Once Furihata recognised that wouldn’t work he huffed. “Aw come on, you’re not even eating them, it’s all going to waste.”

“Stop with your grumbling.” Akashi chuckled. “You wouldn’t be able to eat all these anyway.”

The large variety of colours and pictures on all the wrappers hurt his eyes, but he could see the appeal – the smell of artificial strawberries and bananas and blueberries was pleasant on the nose, flashy as the packaging was. It probably fed the eyes more than anything, all the pretty translucent gummies and shiny chocolates moulded into interesting shapes.

“Would so.” Furihata’s cheeks puffed and he brought a thumb to his mouth.

“Wouldn’t.”

“You underestimate me.”

“I think in this instance I ‘estimate’ you right on. There’s nearly two kilograms of snacks here.” Akashi gestured to his pile, eyes on Furihata chewing on his thumb, not missing how it made his bottom lip shiny.

“One more game!”

“Of course, I’ll just move these closer.” With his forearm he dragged all the candy closer to himself.

“Oof, you’re just doing this on purpose now.”

“Comedy aside, if you want to stop and eat, we can. Don’t feel obligated to do things you don’t want to do. Not with me.”

“I- um, thank you. I’m not like, actually suffering.”

A silence inflated between them but it didn’t bring Akashi any awkwardness – he’d said what he wanted to say. Furihata had looked at him for a few moments, the first time he’d held eye contact for more than a few seconds.

He had remained still and if Akashi had been a short distance further he would’ve missed the pink developing on his face. Something in the air shifted at this exchange.

“You…your eyes are really beau- um, they’re, they’re nice.”

Something inside Akashi sung, greedily lapping up the compliment. He’d been told that many times before, but now it mattered. “Are they now?”

“Y-Yeah. Very unique. You’re…you’re unique. But not in that sort of way,” he hurried to say, “Like in a nice way. You- a lot of Kuroko’s friends have this colourful theme going on.”

“It would seem so.” He wanted to say the same back – Furihata had nice eyes. More than nice. Akashi wished he’d look directly at him more frequently.

He’d save it for another day though, didn’t want to make it seem as though he was doing so only to return the compliment, that would cheapen his intent. Not to him, but it was easy to misinterpret.

He waited, while there was this suspended atmosphere, for something else. Furihata seemed to be working on saying something, but they were interrupted.

It was at that moment, Akashi heated by Furihata’s appraisal and anticipating more, that they were both startled by the door bashing open. Their soft calm was broken up by disruptive sounds and loud talking, all coming from the corridor.

A tall man with red hair eventually made his entrance, Kuroko in tow.

“Whoa it’s hot in here! Kuroko, you gotta leave the windows open more often, it’s gonna get- hey who’s this dude? Oh, this is that Akashi guy right?”

If he remembered correctly, Furihata had called him in the same manner as well, dubbing him as ‘ _that_ Akashi’. Those circumstances were of course different, but again made him question how Kuroko described him to his friends, if this was the reaction he received upon first meeting.

Akashi blinked at the brashness of the introduction, if it could be deemed as that. “Tetsuya.” He greeted, not sure how to approach or address the guest.

“Akashi-kun, Furihata-kun.” Kuroko looked over them with his signature blank look, gaze momentarily observing the pile of candy by Akashi’s arm. “You two are sitting rather closely.”

Furihata blushed and subtly (subtly only really meaning slowly, as no one missed the action) nudged himself to the side, body balancing the other way.

“We were just playing cards.” He supplied, voice steadier than it had been a few minutes ago, completely avoiding Akashi’s eyes. A shame, after the earlier progress.

The wild man caught Furihata and his eyebrows lifted in happy surprise. Those eyebrows were odd, angry-looking, which gave his expression more intensity than perhaps intended. “Oh Furi, you’re here too. You know this guy?”

Akashi stood up. “Akashi Seijuro. It’s always nice to meet new people, especially those already familiar with my friends.” Akashi would have to put some trust in this person, as Kuroko seems to be on good terms with him.

“Kagami.” Kagami nodded, arm outstretched for a handshake.

They shook hands, Akashi’s completely engulfed in his, and no more words carried between them. Kuroko stepped in.

“Kagami-kun, this is the person that I mentioned occasionally stays here with me. And you of course know Furihata-kun.”

Somehow that made his lip curl. Akashi wasn’t in on why he hadn’t been made aware of the existence of Kuroko’s extended friendship circle, and the fact that this…this ‘Kagami’ knew Furihata before him made his mouth sour. He was always in the know, so he was not familiar and therefore unsure how to deal with _not_ being in the know.

Furihata also stood up, card game pushed aside, and hovered close behind Akashi. He brushed off invisible crumbs and roughed up his hair. “Yeah, how’re you doing?”

“Not bad, not bad. Same old, Tatsuya wants us to go America again but coach isn’t giving me any holiday days so I gotta fight both of them. Your studies coming along good?”

“Ah Himuro-kun, I hope he's good, although I think he's always pretty on top of things. Yeah everything’s moving on well, submitted an essay recently and I’m still trying to catch up on all the lost sleep.” He chuckled.

After all the brief catch-ups were complete Akashi had mentioned the takeaway idea, which earned a hearty whoop from Kagami and a soft ‘finally’ from Furihata.

Kagami voluntarily made a separate selection and paid by himself, which left Kuroko, Furihata, and Akashi to place their own order.

Furihata was a lot more stubborn than Akashi had initially credited him to be. He softly but firmly rejected Akashi’s (plentiful) offers to pay and shot down Kuroko’s suggestion to split the bill threeway.

“You’re studying, save your money for that and you can treat everyone once you can afford it.” Akashi said.

“Akashi-kun makes a good point. He’s so passionate about paying and being the gentleman, maybe you should just indulge him, Furihata-kun.”

Akashi glared in Kuroko's direction.

“Nope, Akashi paid for us on that Saturday and I basically invited myself here, so I’m paying.”

“ _I_ invited you.” Akashi countered, not quite understanding the resistance he was meeting. Usually he didn’t have this much trouble convincing people to not pay.

Furihata simply shook his head and that was that. Akashi wished now that he’d been a little bit more frugal in his choice of foods and platters, it would’ve shaved off a few yen from the total. He’d return the favour in some way in the future, he promised, would make it up.

“Ah yes, Saturday,” Kuroko chimed in without anyone asking him to do so, “Your little date.”

His muscles went stiff. What was the best rebuttal? Quick denial? Or would that fan the flames, so to speak? Kuroko knew what he was doing, he didn’t want to succumb to his teasing. Akashi worked well under pressure but this was a form of pressure different to what he'd been taught to master.

Was calling it a date too forward? Did Furihata consider it a date? A tightness twisted within him. He wouldn’t dare hope for that to be the case, not yet, but he also didn’t want Furihata to brush it off as something mundane.

He glanced at him to try and judge what Furihata thought of this, cursing Kuroko for his unnecessary commentary.

Furihata was looking at Kuroko, eyes steady, not focused on Akashi at all. “How did your day with Kagami go? Quite cute, walking round the city. Together. And so late too, you've been out a while. Isn’t that cute, Akashi?” 

Akashi couldn’t help but smirk. A perfect response. He took a breath in, not knowing how else to deal with the cocktail of fondness and pride he’d felt. “Absolutely. Could classify that as romantic, even.”

Kuroko sharply opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then grabbed Kagami by the sleeve and muttered ‘let's get the plates ready’ and something that sounded like ‘betrayal’, retreating into the kitchen.

Furihata laughed as soon as they left the room. “Wow, that was quick. I swear his ears went red.”

Akashi hummed, happy. Kuroko deserved it, taking into account all of his recent teasing and meddling. It was always amusing seeing him in something that wasn’t indifferent stoicism.

“It’s nice seeing Kagami though.” Furihata said, picking up all the cards they’d abandoned with the arrival of Kuroko and Kagami.

“Have you known each other long?” he asked and went to help him with clearing the table.

“Not longer than I’ve known Kuroko. I think I met him…hm. Maybe a year after I met Kuroko? A year and a bit? He was on a sports scholarship in America. I think Kuroko knew him way before, but since he was abroad a lot I only met him later.”

He leaned in close to Akashi to softly murmur something, cupping a hand around his mouth for extra measure. Akashi shivered along with the same breath that sifted through the very tips of his fringe as Furihata spoke. “I’m pretty sure Kuroko’s been into him since waaay back in high school, which I’m pretty sure is where they met.”

Akashi didn’t have trouble believing this, but he liked the position he was in now, and went into more depth on the topic.

He similarly lowered his voice, copying Furihata, although the other pair were in the kitchen and not much could be heard over Kagami’s booming voice. “Were they close while you were at the university?”

“Pretty sure. Maybe not like they are now, but the signs were there.”

“What signs?”

“They saw each other a lot. Kuroko always tried to get them to meet up, always talked Kagami into visiting Japan often. I saw them kiss goodbye once, back then.”

“But is that enough to warrant- what? Kiss?”

“Yeah, it was after- and I remember this clearly, ‘cause I drove them to the airport, but Kagami was going back for matches and all that and just – and I mean literally last second – just before he went off into where they check your suitcases and stuff-”

“Customs.”

“Yeah that, just before he went off Kuroko tugged him down and BAM smooch right on the cheek. He thought he was being sneaky, but I saw.”

“…So if they were at that…stage of intimacy, I think it wouldn’t be unreasonable to consider them past the point of simple interest. They’ve had a lot of time to…develop their…situation.” Akashi was not in his element and he hoped it didn’t show nearly as much as he felt it did.

“It was just a peck, that doesn’t always mean um, y’know, a relationship straight away. I don’t know how serious it was back then, Kuroko is really good at being quiet. But I do think they’re getting there now.”

Akashi didn’t review his next sentence before his mouth ran it through and the ensuing embarrassment would haunt him for days. He wanted to slap himself for being so forward. He was being very uncouth today.

“Would _you_ kiss someone close goodbye?” He wasn’t even thinking about Kuroko and Kagami or Kuroko _and_ Kagami any more.

“M-Me? I think that uh, that really depends.”

“Of course, my apologies, silly question.” _Idiot_. What else was he hoping to achieve? Context is always the answer.

“It’s not silly.”

They’d both now stopped whispering, voices relatively close to normal volume, but still slightly hushed. Considering their proximity, it was probably most suitable.

“It can be hard, I think, knowing your boundaries with each and every person. I think that most of the time we can tell easily when someone is happy or unhappy in our presence, whether they’d want your closeness or not, but at other times it can be hard. L-Like, sometimes you know what you want to do, but that might not be what the other person wants, or at least you think that, and then it all becomes really blurry, and those boundaries aren’t so…’bounding’, if that makes sense? It can get jumbled.” He finished, voice going timid.

“One hundred percent.” Those words rung a little too close for comfort. Akashi perhaps wasn’t a natural at assessing what level of closeness was ideal with each person, but he’d come to learn. It was a rather complicated concept, as boundaries could change and shift within a second, or shift so slowly over so many years that you don’t pick up on until something went sour.

His situation with Furihata was especially relevant to this, tested his ability to assess these things to the maximum. Were they close? Good friends? How close? What was too close? What was too far? Too impersonal? How do you know you’ve reached a certain stage of closeness? How does anyone know, if everyone’s marker for such thing is different? What was he even thinking?

There had been too much philosophy running through his brain for a Friday night.

“Oh by the way, should we have a few sweets?”

Akashi dismissed his spindling thoughts and refocused his sight on Furihata. “No, we can have a few after dinner.”

Furihata rolled his eyes, biting his lip to conceal his smile. “Yes mum.”

The takeaway arrived twenty odd minutes later, and as everything had been laid out, courtesy of Kagami and Kuroko, they tucked in with fervour.

Akashi, after coming to the conclusion that he could not sit opposite Kagami and watch him scoff at his food, went to sit by Furihata, who was elevated above them on the sofa. Due to their combined weight on it their sides got squished together, and after a few elbow bumps Akashi slung the arm that was between them behind Furihata’s head.

“So ‘Kashi,” Kagami ruffed, “Kuroko tells me you got a business.”

“Yes, a subsidiary of my father’s company. I’m currently managing it as a test to see whether I can run such things smoothly.” Which was just a formality, because of course he could. All those years of discipline and specialised subjects and lack of free time weren’t enforced for nothing.

“Cool.”

“Kagami-kun is a professional basketball player.”

“Nah Kuroko, not yet, I’m still just on the bench.”

“On the official bench.” Kuroko corrected.

“That’s really cool though. I used to play basketball in highschool.” Furihata chipped in.

Akashi turned to him, and their faces were much too close. “We should play sometime, me and Tetsuya similarly played competitively in those days.”

“Oh no, I was just in it for…well, I started with uh, weird intentions but after a while I genuinely enjoyed it, but I never played in actual tournaments.”

“Weird intentions?” Akashi repeated.

Furihata reddened and shook his head, no doubt ready to discourage any further explanations, but Kuroko stepped in for him, and for once Akashi was happy with the interruption.

“There was a girl Furihata-kun liked, and she claimed that if Furihata-kun got good at something she would consider them going on a date.”

“Uwah, Kurookoo, why’d you-“ Furihata started, hands covering his eyes.

“Furi! C’mon, what a scam, you could’ve done so much better than that, the hell.”

Akashi agreed with Kagami.

They all looked at Furihata, and he cracked under their gazes. “I was- ugh, I was like really self-conscious about everything back then, the fact that a girl even gave me the time of day was enough to-“

An anger inflated within Akashi, the protective type. He hoped Furihata recognised now at least what a person he was, how likeable he was even in aspects that were supposed to be dislikeable.

Akashi couldn’t imagine looking at him, talking to him, and thinking that he was only worth a half-hearted effort. Not even an effort, a mere _consideration_.

“Guys,” Furihata sighed and Akashi felt his ribcage expending the air out, “Can we leave my awkward teenage years in the past, they’ve been buried for a reason.”

Kagami held his hands up, chopsticks greased up and sliding in his grip. “Just sayin’.”

“I hope presently you value yourself higher.” Was all Akashi said to that.

The commotion died down and Furihata continued eating, softly tapping his knee against Akashi’s, a small token of ‘thank you’ unnoticed by Kuroko and Kagami. Akashi let out a breath and resumed with his food as well.

All too soon it was time for Furihata and Kagami to leave. Everyone had things they needed to do and it was already nearing midnight. Akashi had made it clear that Furihata would not be walking home and Kagami quickly offered to drive him. Akashi was now not so un-fond of him, negative first impression reversed. They hadn’t talked that much but he wasn't terrible.

While Kuroko had dragged Kagami into his room to show him something before he left Akashi stayed with Furihata as he readied to leave.

He’d gathered the bag full of stationery and patted his belly through his puff coat, sated. “That was nice, I’m so full.”

Akashi could agree. He didn’t want to waste the money Furihata had spent and so tried to eat as much as he could. Kagami had been a blessing in disguise, not only eating everything he ordered but easily hoovering up any of the leftovers the other three hadn’t managed to finish. Akashi never really ate takeaway food past its delivery day, so it was good that nothing had gone to waste.

“It was. I’m glad we crossed each other again today.” He supplied, leaning on the door frame. The fullness in his stomach made his eyelids droop.

“Definitely. Didn’t really let you rest in the end, but please allow yourself some time on the weekend, yeah?”

“I’ll try.” Akashi couldn’t guarantee a promise on that, but he could make an effort.

“Okay, well. I’ll try to text more, maybe we can organise something again.”

“Certainly. However do not worry about messaging – if you’re busy then you’re busy, I’m not the type to hold that against you.”

"Thanks, will do. Well, enjoy all the clean-up, I would help but duty calls, conveniently.” He joked.

Akashi nodded, expression unguarded, simply watching Furihata.

Furihata looked back into his eyes for a few beats, calculating something, and then slowly, tentatively, came forward. Initially Akashi wasn’t sure what to do or how to react, didn’t understand what the movement was, but then Furihata hugged him.

It wasn’t anything beyond a simple goodbye, just a loose embrace, but it made Akashi immensely tranquil. He brought his own arms to loop atop Furihata’s shoulders, weight squishing his coat and their cheeks momentarily touching.

He hushed “Thanks for having me today.” into Akashi's ear, mouth ghosting over his skin.

Furihata was back out of his arms quicker than Akashi could register, his warmth withdrawing with him, and the other two stepped out simultaneously, the timing almost scripted.

He thought back to his earlier musings. Was he a person Furihata would be comfortable kissing goodbye? Akashi wouldn’t oppose it. He wondered exactly what that meant for him and his boundaries.

He stood there, mind like static while everyone said their final goodbyes for the night, and continued to do so well after the door had been shut and Kagami’s noisy chatter faded into the distance.

He helped Kuroko with clearing everything away, mind replaying the sensations of the hug on loop. The other’s voice eventually broke through.

“So I see you swindled Furihata-kun out of all of his confectionery.”

“It was a fair game.”

“A game against you is never fair.”

If he wasn’t so frazzled Akashi might’ve retorted, but his mind whirred with other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer, but I really didn’t want to break up the ‘event’, so I hope it wasn’t difficult to read. We're slowly progressing now, baby steps. I like slow burn but I also like some action if ya get me, so had to keep telling myself ‘you cant write that yet, go sloooowwwwllyyyyy’ lol. Also my apologies to Kagami, he wasn't really an active character in this chapter, but he'll appear again! Hope you liked!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note - this chapter is entirely text speech. It's relevant to the next chapter, which I will put up later today! I just wanted to keep them separate.

**[Akaassshiiiiiii.]** **21:17**

[Good evening. Is everything alright?] 21:17

 **[No everything is not alright.]  
[Good evening to you too btw.] ** **21:17**

[What’s wrong?] 21:18

 **[Uni people invited me to a party so I was like yeah why not and I shouldn’t have.]  
[Cause most of them are freshers and I don’t wanna talk to babies it scares me.] ** **21:18**

[That did not make nearly as much sense as you probably think it did.]  
[Let me clarify, for my own sake. Babies is referring to freshmen, and you do not want to socialise with said freshmen.] 21:19

 **[You text like my granddad. But yeah. Like I don’t know what to talk to them other than hey what’s your course how’re you getting on here’s my advice bye.]  
[Plus can I even give advice since I dropped out the first time.]  
[I’m a little older than most of the people in my year because of that anyway.]  
[You see my problem? They give me anxiety.] ** **21:19**

[Furi.]  
[Just because you did leave that first time does not discredit your experience or invalidate your advice. Stop putting yourself down. If they’re asking then clearly they do want your input.] 21:19

 **[…]  
[Ok you convinced me, senior boi Furi is going to bestow his knowledge on all these little weaklings so that they can grow.] ** **21:20**

[You’re not a senior, you said you had one more year to go after this.] 21:20

 **[Dude you don’t have to be like that. I’m *their* senior, even if I’m not like senior senior.]** **21:20**

[Maybe elder would be more appropriate here.] 21:20

 **[You’re right!]  
[I’m their ELDER.]  
[Wow that makes me feel powerful, I like that.] ** **21:20**

[Your perception of power is quite interesting. Being a few years above some freshmen.] 21:20

 **[You just don’t understand.]  
[Omg.]  
[Someone’s passed out in the toilet.]  
[I need to pee.]  
[Man I should’ve just gone earlier.]  
[Omg I really *really* need to pee.]  
[Why are you not replying I need some support rn.] ** **21:22**

[My apologies.]  
[I was preoccupied with laughing at your predicament.]  
[Is that the only bathroom? Are there any others nearby?] 21:26

 **[They close the public bathrooms after 9pm TT^TT.]** **21:26**

[Using emoji’s. You must be truly stressed.] 21:27

 **[I’m not even kidding, this might be the first time since 2009 that I’m gonna pee myself.]** **21:27**

[2009? You would’ve been 12.] 21:27

 **[Can you not pls.]  
[It’s still sort of common at that age.]** **21:27**

[Is it now.] 21:27

 **[Yes! It is!]  
[Ok I think I’m gonna have to run outside and find some bushes, I genuinely cannot hold it much longer.] ** **21:28**

[Is he completely immobile? Are you not able to wake him and/or move him out from the bathroom?] 21:28

 **[Nope, he’s like a heavy sack of potatoes. I thought I’d wait until someone else would move him but he’s still here.]  
[I put him in the recovery position tho.] ** **21:28**

[That is very good.]  
[Are you going now?] 21:28

 **[All good now. Honestly emptying your bladder is an elevated type of relief.]** **  
[I’m sorry, this whole conversation has basically just been me and my pee adventure.]** **21:41**

[Not to worry, I’ve been laughing for the majority of it.]  
[Laughing with, not at.] 21:42

 **[*I’m* not laughing, so you are actually laughing at me.]  
[t’s ok, I’m fine, you’re free to continue.]  
[How’s your Saturday going?] ** **21:42**

[A lot more uneventful than yours. I reviewed some employee performance reports and then I’ve just been reading.] 21:43

 **[Wow okay no offense but I’m not jealous. Performance reports?]** **21:43**

[At the moment everyone is performing as is expected, however I want to encourage some more enthusiastic work, and thought of introducing a salary rewards model to those who do well.] 21:43

 **[Ooh awesome. Makes me wanna work harder and get in your star employee list.]  
[And I don’t even work there.] ** **21:44**

[Furi that is ridiculous.]  
[We don’t have such a thing.] 21:45

 **[Make that a thing and watch work effort go through the roof.]  
[You should personally award them a sticker or something.]  
[I think I would cry from happiness if that was me.] ** **21:45**

[I can give you stickers anytime, if it makes you that happy, but I doubt my employees would be too overjoyed at that concept. Extra money on the other hand is always a strong motivator.] 21:45

 **[Your loss. If you ever do do that tho you have to credit me. I need my cut.]** **21:45**

[Something tells me that stickers as incentive for higher achievement has already been done.] 21:46

 **[Who told you that? Nonsense, this is my own super original idea.]  
[Skinner and his reinforcement stuff? Never heard of it.] ** **21:46**

[See if I didn’t know better I would accept and then we’d both get sued.] 21:46

 **[Nah trust me, I was the first guy, they stole my thing.]  
[Plagiarism. Plagiarism everywhere.] ** **  
[Hey I was thinking, before I drink too much, if you wanted to come round mine at some point?]  
[Cause we always hang round Kuroko’s but I don’t really live that far from him.]  
[I’ll even tidy it up. Just for you.] ** **21:48**

[I feel as though I’ve been bestowed the highest honour. You’d clean? Even all those webs and dead insects you mentioned?] 21:48

 **[Why do you remember that D:]  
[But yeah, everything! Even the dishes!] ** **21:49**

[In that case I’ll have no choice but to visit.] 21:49

 **[Whoop! How about next week?]** **21:49**

[I am relatively free. We’ll see how we go throughout the week and then pick a day for the weekend.] 21:50

 **[Noice. Well, have a good night, I’m gonna go drink some more and impart the younglings with my knowledge.]** **21:50**

[I wish you luck. Please drink in moderation, be careful getting back, and text me when you get home.] 21:50

 **[Yes mum.]  
[Chat later! Say hi to Kuroko for me!] ** **21:51**

**\-------**

**[I back.]  
[They kno all secrets now, knowledge gave.]  
[Thank for talking to m.]  
[I don’t really leik parties.]  
[It would be nice if you had here4.]  
[Goodnight.] ** **01:12**

[Sleep well. I look forward to seeing you soon.] 01:48


	5. Chapter 5

He rung the doorbell to Furihata’s studio and took a step back so that he wasn’t so close to the door once it would be opened.

Truthfully, Akashi was not even an ounce nervous about coming here. When Furihata had made the invitation the primary emotions that overtook him were joy, excitement, and acceptance, so if there was a slight spring in his step it was all down to Furihata.

He’d brought a tin of anko flavoured biscuits, a novelty item that he’d been told made for a good house gift. The tin that held them was decorative and had a detailed design which he hoped Furihata would appreciate. He didn’t want to come empty handed and initially thought to get flowers, but Kuroko advised him against it ( _“You’e only going to visit his place, Akashi-kun, I think flowers are a bit much.”_ ).

The tin lid however did have flowers painted on it, so he at least partially fulfilled his intent.

A few beats and the door was opened, just enough for Furihata to pop out but not enough to be able to see into the studio.

Furihata looked…ruffled. He’d clearly just gotten out of bed, eyes a tad puffy. He was also rather scantily dressed, with…dino patterned boxers and a baggy t-shirt. Akashi didn’t stare at the expanse chest revealed by his loose-hanging shirt, nor did he stare at the amount of thigh on display and _definitely_ not at anything else in that region.

His eyes strayed back up and he smiled at how wild Furihata’s hair was, one side completely flat while the other looked like it had been electrified.

“Good morning. It was ten wasn’t it? Did I come too early?” He confirmed.

“Uh n-no, we did say ten, you’re right on time.”

He seemed disoriented and still hadn’t budged from his spot. He wasn’t too surprised that Furihata had overslept, they did chat the day before and Furihata had mentioned having long shifts the whole week.

Akashi had been too excited at the prospect of seeing how Furihata lived, what his place was like. He’d gotten up much earlier than was necessary and got to the studio block half an hour early.

Being early in business settings is always good, people like punctuality. He’d observed however that in more casual encounters people often disregarded scheduled times and came specifically late. Going by this logic Akashi loitered around a nearby café so as not to arrive before ten, but even then couldn’t hold himself and went up five minutes earlier, where he stood around before deeming it appropriate to ring.

He doubted Furihata would care, but Akashi did care about these things, timing was important. It was also embarrassing, his eagerness, but there wasn't much he could personally do to quell it.

“I…um. It’s really messy, sorry, and I’m not like other people, I mean that it’s _actually_ _messy_ …could you- could you give me like five mins to dress up and stuff?”

“Of course. I can wait out here," he'd managed to wait a couple of hours, a few more minutes wasn't much, "if you don’t want to leave the space unattended. You don’t have to rush.”

Furihata shook his head at this and pinched his sleeve, tugging Akashi inside. This brought them close and Akashi couldn’t resist. As he got past the door he gently smoothed through Furihata’s hair, surprised at how soft it was despite its spiky look.

“Your hair forgoes all laws of physics, a natural enigma.” He chuckled.

Furihata whipped his head round with Akashi’s hand staying stationary where it was, hair sifting through his fingers. The ensuing pout and scrunched nose made for an image no more threatening than a slightly miffed puppy.

“Wha- I haven’t even woken up properly and you’re disrespecting me!” Furihata weakly swatted at his arm, trying to dislodge it out of his hair and Akashi put up a brief mock-fight, dodging him, before dropping his arm back towards himself.

“I think ‘disrespecting’ is a bit strong. I’m admiring.”

Furihata rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. “Admiring he says."

He picked up some clothes from the back of chair and got changed in the bathroom. "Okay, um. I guess I’ll give you a quick tour now?" He returned, demeanour more fresh. "Again, I’m so sorry, I promised I’d clean and I know it’s not good, I swear I am capable of not being messy, but-“

“It’s okay Furi. Keeping things showcase-ready clean isn’t always priority, do not worry. I can handle a few stray socks.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Don’t you dare leave bad reviews on me though, I will find you-“

“I understand, this is for my viewing only.” Akashi laughed.

“Yes, it is. You better feel special.”

“Absolutely.”

“So. This is the place, my humble abode, my cavern, my place of peace and rest.” Furihata spread out his arms, indicating the whole space, and slowly spun around as he focused Akashi’s attention to the different areas. “That door there leads to the bathroom, but everything else is just in this square. My grand, spacious kitchen is there.”

He pointed to a small piece of kitchen crammed into one wall, various pots and pans covering the counter. There was also a noticeable stack of plates and bowls in the sink, all precariously balanced.

“My bedroom is in that corner.”

Furihata had a double bed, which had a sunflower print and mismatching pillows, one just about drooping over the edge of the bed. The sheets looked old, worn in a way of having endured many washes.

“And that’s pretty much it to be honest."

There was also a nice little nook that was a makeshift living room, with a TV and a sofa arranged in a way that separated it as its own zone.

The room was plain on first glance but had many injections of personality and colour when you focused. The wardrobe next to the bed for example had a little patch with pen drawings and a scenery of a koi pond painted directly onto the wood in black and white. The ‘living room’ had a standard L-shaped fabric sofa but there was also a bright pink fur bean bag squished into the space between that and the wall.

He’d also noticed a few train posters pasted over each other, a pile of textbooks on the little kitchen table, a few sweet wrappers crumpled in places. It felt magical, like he’d just stepped into Furihata’s very being.

Being surrounded by Furihata and Furihata’s life made him feel at home. He had no qualms with taking off his shoes and going to sit right on the unmade bed, doing a few test bounces on it. Furihata joined him, flopping onto the bed without any reserve.

Akashi had noticed the little strain of uneasiness on him earlier and was glad that he’d let go of it. It's understandable, he would've been uneasy with waking up and not being organised for an event. He wanted Furihata to feel comfortable in his presence, natural.

“It’s very nice in here. Oh, of course. This is for you. I haven’t had a chance to try them, but I hope they’re to your liking.” He passed the small tin to Furihata who sat up to take it, shuffling close to Akashi’s side.

“You really shouldn’t have. Like I accept of course, but you don’t have to bring things to me y’know.” He said, all the while eagerly taking off the seal around the metal and chomping into a biscuit.

Akashi was going to ask how it was, whether he liked it, and got quietened by Furihata unceremoniously shoving one into his mouth. He quickly brought a hand up to cup under his mouth to catch any crumbs, missed, attempted to chew the whole thing in one go but it was too big and too dry by itself, so he fumbled with it and made a mess anyway.

Furihata laughed, holding his face. “Oh my god, I’ve never seen such shock, you looked like nothing else could be more overwhelming. These are _really_ good by the way.”

“You force food in my mouth without warning and expect me to not react?” Akashi took hold Furihata’s wrists so that he could see his face better. Furihata peeped one glance at his face and started guffawing, barely able to breathe between his laughing fits.

This devolved into Furihata trying to pull his arms back towards himself with Akashi trying to do the opposite and draw his arms out. They roughed around for a bit until both of their arms were locked up above their heads, an action that unbalanced them. Furihata flopped backwards and didn’t let go in the process so Akashi toppled over with him, both being dragged down.

This is what he imagined the freedom of youth felt like, as he saw in adverts and read in books and only now got to experience, completely unbidden by anything else.

They tumbled about a bit longer until Furihata finally gave up, face red with all the exertion and laughter. Akashi felt young, younger than he’d felt in a while, carelessly play fighting over nothing important.

“Alright! I concede! God you’re stubborn.” He gasped and relaxed into the bed, his grip on Akashi’s forearms going completely loose. Akashi smiled, happy with the victory, and similarly landed into the sheets.

He slowly laughed out the rest of his giggles and Akashi simply watched him, surrounded by sunflower print and the hues of the sunrise. Peace, he thought, would look something similar to Furihata amid a morning field of sunflowers, laughing and playing. Akashi’s stomach rolled at the image in want, feeling an intense desire to be part of that picture, basking in Furihata’s world. Odd. This was an unfamiliar feeling.

Furihata waved a hand in front of his glazed eyes and his mind refocused into the present, where Furihata looked a little tired but equally as inviting. “Have I got something on my face?”

“Yes, the specific expression of a loser.”

Furihata turned onto his belly and propped himself up on his elbows, one hand reaching out to boop Akashi on the nose. “You,” he poked again, “are so rude.”

“Don’t worry, I like that look.”

Furihata wasn’t looking at him properly so it was difficult to capture his expression. “Jesus Christ. Kuroko told me about your reign of terror back in your high school days y’know.”

That induced a trickle of anger within him. Kuroko and his mouth again. Very mild anger, but still negative. He wanted to tell Furihata about himself in his own way, wanted to be the first. _They’ve been friends for a long time_ , he tells himself, trying to reason with the anger that had appeared like whiplash, _it’s expected they would share what happened in their lives_.

“I would imagine he would have. I was…quite high strung in those days.” If that was the right description.

Furihata rearranged himself to rest in his own arms, eyes the only thing visible over his crossed forearms. Got comfortable like he was ready to listen to something lengthy. Akashi wasn’t so sure this was something he wanted to discuss currently.

It was a time in his life where he had all the questions and none of the answers; he didn’t know what his identity truly was, after realising just how much of it had been constructed by the Akashi family ideals; friends who seemed to draw away from him in a way he couldn’t understand; no clue on how his future would go, whether he would meet all of his goals, given or created, or fail altogether.

He wanted basketball and he wanted high grades and he wanted his father’s approval. Exceptional in all areas. Akashi wasn’t brittle, he could flex under tension and pressure, but only to a certain point. It seems obvious now, that he had taken on a lot more than he was capable of chewing, but to younger Akashi there was no compromise on anything but perfection.

‘ _High strung_ ’ encompasses all of that very loosely, but it gets the gist across. He wondered, if one day, he would be able to pour all of this out to Furihata, give him something beyond a word or two to gloss over that whole period of his life, but dismisses it.

“I had…a unique relationship with myself. Your pillows smell pleasant.” 

“I washed my bedding yesterday. I usually have a really classy grey set but that’s drying at the moment, these are the back up sheets.” He patted the cover, hand squishing sunflowers. “I swear I had this since I was like nine.”

Akashi thought this one suited a lot more than whatever the grey one looked like.

“So did you like school? Kuroko said at one point he didn’t get to see you often at all, said you got really focused and never visited.”

“Our paths diverged after middle school. I was okay, an overachiever, perhaps. Where did you get these? They look in good condition, considering it’s been fourteen years.” His fingers smoothed over the sheets, finding a lot more interest in their history over them talking about his own.

“Ooh, were you the smarty pants? The teacher’s pet type? School heart throb type? I mean, it’s really not hard to imagine. I don’t really know, mum got them at some market they had I think.”

Akashi chuckled. “No, nothing romantic like that. I just did well. It’s good quality. Businesses don’t manufacture products with the same care like they used to. Or perhaps this was made more locally, considering the age.”

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa, he says stuff like ‘oh back in the day they used to really treat you’ blah blah blah.”

Akashi rose an eyebrow. “…That was an interesting impression of an old man.”

“Oh you-“ Furihata got up to again shove at him, but this time Akashi was prepared and Furihata couldn’t do much except playfully swipe at him.

He was enjoying this more than the context really called for. Something about Furihata in home clothing (he’d put on a baggy hoodie and some shorts, no longer in his pyjama attire), surrounded by a not picture-perfect environment and their easy banter turned him into something soft.

After a while Furihata again calmed down (waved the white flag, another victory for Akashi) and relaxed into the bed once more. The way he landed put him right into Akashi’s side.

“I think I can find some pictures on my phone from ages ago where I still have that cover.” He took out his phone, face illuminated by a pale wash of blue. “We scanned loads of old photos in case something happened and I imported a bunch from the computer. Look! This one!”

Furihata slung a leg over Akashi’s to angle his body and give him a clearer view of the screen. His heart accelerated and a heat engulfed his neck. This was, at least for him, well past friend intimacy. Furihata’s indifference, how unthinkingly he just…got so close, made it even worse.

Then he thought a string of other things he had not realised, for example the fact that he’d invited himself onto Furihata’s bed in the first place – there was a perfect sofa literally a few paces away. They’d progressed rather rapidly, going from strangers to going on outings (he didn’t want to dub them as dates, it brought a hopeful type of discomfort) to hugging goodbye to…comfortably arranging themselves? _Cuddling_?

What miffed him the most was that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Furihata gave him things he didn’t know he wanted, and then he wished for even more. He needed someone to pinch him back to reality where he didn't go through so many emotions in so little time.

Somewhere, at the very depths of his brain, most likely the more logic-driven areas, a voice told him that he should be a bit more wary of that. Fortunately on unfortunately he did not hear it over the blood thump in his ears.

“So here I’m about eleven, and dad let us bring our covers down to play games cause it was cold.”

“So the age where you still wet your pants?”

“Can’t tell you anything, I swear-“ Furihata began withdrawing, concealing the phone away from him. Akashi felt the absence of warmth immediately

“No no, I’m sorry.” he chuckled, voice soft, gently tugging Furihata back towards him, twisting the phone in his hand to be able to see. “I’m just teasing.”

Furihata sighed at him, a grumbly forgiveness, and they resumed once more. Akashi looked at the photograph on the phone, mind drawing away from his consideration about appropriateness and why he was reacting like he’d never been more than friendly with someone before.

It was sweet. Furihata was sitting bundled in a wad of cover, little chubby cheeks barely making it past the edge. An older child, presumably his brother, sat beside him with a cover loosely draped around his shoulders, holding a controller. They were both looking at a TV, a dated, thick model, both equally as absorbed on whatever game was being played, eyes almost frightfully intense in concentration. It had a nostalgic feel that most photos do, and even he felt a slight melancholy despite this never being a part of his life and having absolutely no involvement with that event.

“My brother would never let me play on any of his stuff, I was always just a spectator. Oh and this one look.”

Furihata flicked through a few more before the blanket featured in another photo, this time with it tied around his neck like a cape. He had some sort of body suit on, resembling a little superhero. He was eating something, cheeks full and mouth covered in jam. Akashi looked over it fondly. Furihata was adorable as a child.

“Here I think I was ten?”

“What’s that in the background?”

“Oh that…” He zoomed in to try and make out what it was, biting his lip in concentration. “That’s a fan! I wanted to make the cape blow in the wind like they do in movies. It kind of failed, because the cover was too heavy and that fan was cheap.”

“That’s amusing. You do look as though you’re ready to serve justice,” he joked, “That’s a rather intense expression on your face.”

Furihata laughed and he felt proud of himself.

“Pft ready to serve justice, I was just mad that it didn’t work. My brother convinced me to get the fan out, then _I_ was the one who got told off for putting it on when it was cold.”

They continued going through photos and Akashi got to see Furihata throughout the ages.

There was a progression as they moved through different dates. He watched as a bubbly child went from being bold and imaginative to becoming meek and withdrawn in the later years. There was a picture of Furihata when he was sixteen and Akashi’s heart twinged at how conscious of himself he looked, how uncomfortable and awkward his posture was against the others.

Furihata didn’t say much about those photos, but there was a notable difference between how often he appeared in photos when he was younger versus how often he featured in the teenage years. He made an indirect comment about it but Furihata didn’t give him much apart from ‘ _I was just shy back then’_. Fair enough, considering Akashi’s earlier avoidance of the same topic. It shared the burden, in some way, that they both had issues back in those days. Maybe one day they’d share them with each other.

After they'd exhausted the gallery Furihata chucked his phone down, sighing. “Hey, you know, I don’t really feel like going anywhere today.”

Akashi agreed. The atmosphere was lazy and peaceful and he would much rather stay here than go out.

Furihata offered they play some games, and after hearing the fact the only electronic game he’d played was through a chess game app he sprung off the bed and set up the controllers. What ensued was a bit of a mess. Furihata was unexpectedly competitive, and after he’d been introduced to the controls Akashi also fed the competitive spirit.

At times there was some foul play, namely Furihata nudging him to make him lose grip and have his character veer off screen. On one occasion he literally handicapped Akashi’s character at the expense of them both losing the round. Akashi wanted to have clear, solid, non-contestable wins, so after another one of Furihata’s attempts to dislodge him he caught him with his legs and caged Furihata in at the front. He still wriggled, still tried to bump his way to first place but all for naught, because Akashi had boxed him in and limited his movements.

Furihata huffed and puffed before finally settling and losing games without any disturbance, his losses emphasised by the jingles and sound effects in the game.

“You cheat and still lose. That’s impressive in by itself.”

“You keep using glitches to win!”

“I didn’t know how to navigate this controller until an hour ago, I’m not sure I even know what that means.”

“It means you’re hijacking the controls and winning unfairly.” Furihata turned around in his arms, a slight pout on his lips, their faces close. “Can you let me win one round?”

Akashi blinked, puzzled. “Intentionally?”

“Yeah.”

“…Would that really be of any worth?”

“Yes! In fact, stay in last place the whole time, I need something to cheer me up right now, this is unfair.”

"You're asking me to not only lose but also remain last throughout.” Akashi scoffed, amused by the whole thing. “You’re a bit of a sadist, it seems.”

Losing on purpose was something he simply couldn’t do, his body wouldn’t let him. They started up another round and Furihata relaxed into his chest instead of holding himself away like he’d done before.

Suddenly, his thoughts were not on the game, and try as he might his brain would not focus on the screen. Instead his senses were filled with Furihata’s warmth, his smell, how soft his hair was against his chin, how he felt the staccato of both of their heartbeats.

His character went off the side-lines, bumped into obstacles, fell to simple obvious traps and got hit by multiple easily-avoidable ailments. But where was Akashi focused? Everywhere but the game. A lot of odd thoughts, recently.

The rankings came on and Furihata pumped his arms in joy, one resting on Akashi’s raised knee, celebrating. “I won! Look at that, first place! I didn’t think you’d actually do that, thanks.” He grinned at him with a thumbs up and like an idiot Akashi only nodded.

Thankfully Furihata recommended they play a cooperative, calmer game, in order to ‘de-escalate tensions’ between them, to which he hurriedly agreed.

It was significantly mellower and their competitiveness simmered down. They’d moved to the sofa, basically lounging together, and Akashi was getting used to them being next to each other.

They played for a large majority of the day, talking and discussing and laughing together. It was so easy with Furihata, saying whatever was on his mind, asking whatever he wanted. It almost concerned him.

Furihata took out a bunch of snacks for them and again they filled up on junk food. Akashi had pointed out that Furihata did not eat much homemade, good healthy food. Furihata had explained that he doesn’t really like cooking, that it’s more convenient to just buy. He also said that he didn’t have a particular like for sweets, was just drawn to junk food. Going by the empty pot ramen bowls in the kitchen Akashi didn’t have too much trouble believing this.

You wouldn’t have guessed, really, because Furihata looked good and healthy and his skin was glowy, not affected by his consumption of innutritious food. ‘ _I do drink loads of water though’_ he’d told him.

Furihata bumped his elbow to get the attention that he already had. “Hey, just wanted to say, sorry for prying earlier.”

“Prying?”

“About your school stuff. I’m just curious, I guess, about all the things I didn’t get to see. Kuroko, um, mentions a lot about you sometimes, things that I just don’t have the experience of or anything y’know.”

Akashi shook his head and turned to Furihata, placing the controller on the arm of the sofa. The game they were playing wasn’t one that had time constraints and its tinkling background music played on. “Not at all Furi. I understand.”

“Just tell me yeah, if there’s something you just don’t wanna talk about.”

“Of course. You too.”

“Okay cool.” He smiled in a cheesy cartoony way, grin wide and teeth showing. “I don’t want us to talk about my lack of cooking skills.”

Akashi was quick to disagree. “If it’s something relevant to your health then it will be discussed at length. Store bought food packages are not nutritious enough to sustain longevity.”

Furihata shrugged his shoulders with mock annoyance in his expression. “Eh, I tried.”

“You should also try proper home cooking.”

"Okay okay, I got the message."

Akashi’s laugh chimed over the sound of game music, and, without any thought, he urged a prickly Furihata into his arms. He wasn’t really upset, he could tell (he’d diverted a lot more attention to studying Furihata than he did for a lot of other things).

Furihata rested his face in Akashi’s neck and heat transferred across his skin, his mouth ghosting over his neck. The scene of their hug quickly flashed in his head.

“I don’t mean to antagonise you, I just wish that you take care of yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s not that bad. I always eat good food when I visit my parent’s, and Kuroko usually stuffs vegetables into me, so I’m not like completely deficient.”

“That’s better than nothing, I guess.”

“Right? It could be a lot wor-“

“But still not ideal.”

His voice had softened a lot to accommodate how near Furihata was. They fit really well, like those wooden puzzles, all pieces coming together to make one perfect whole, nothing out of place. This translated to his situation in this studio in general – he felt part of the scenery, part of Furihata’s scenery, especially now that he knew so much more about him.

And how different it had been at the beginning. To think that a fleeting chance meeting would hand him such a person, one that he got on with so well. He couldn’t quite rationalise it either – he and Furihata, to the casual observer, would not make sense as a ‘whole’. They’re more different than they are similar, and yet.

They stayed as they were for a while, long enough for the sun to start setting and enough for the TV to go into sleep mode, a screen saver floating on its screen.

Furihata had dozed off in his arms, all loose, his cheek mushed into the space between the base of his neck and his collar bone. Again he was surprised by how willing he was to just stay where he was, the pull immensely attractive right now. He himself was ready to join him and sleep, and knew that this was the sort of sleepiness where he’d close his eyes and sleep right away, however he had a train to catch and work to do.

As gently as he could manage Akashi extracted Furihata from him and carried him to bed, folding him under the covers.

“Was’ goin on.” Furihata murmured, semi-awake with the jostling.

“I’m just leaving,” he whispered, fingers soothingly gliding through Furihata’s fringe, “don’t worry about getting up. Thank you for having me today.”

Furihata’s eyebrows crossed, sleep-clouded mind trying to make sense of what he’d said before nodding. Whether or not he registered anything or not was unclear. He hugged himself into the sheets and his little light snores resumed.

Akashi closed the windows, the forecast promised a cold night, and tidied away the snacks they’d taken out. His leg bumped into the biscuit tin they’d knocked over earlier in their tussle and he picked that up as well, placing it by what was supposedly a fruit bowl but contained zero fruits.

Furihata’s door had a mechanism that always locked itself, so he didn’t have to worry about finding the keys and shutting the door. He did a test tug as he was out just in case and called a taxi to the station.

\-------

Riding a train at night had its appeal, there was a very unique feel to it, however you couldn’t look out the windows and see the passing landscape due to the inside of the carriage being heavier lit in comparison to the outside.

A buzz vibrated against his thigh and he answered without looking at the caller, expecting it to be a friend, as no colleague would call him this late.

A voice cut through as soon as their call connected and a coldness overtook him.

“Seijuro. I have had some people report to me about the fact that your presence in meetings and the general office has been sparse.”

He overcame his surprise quickly and didn't falter in his reply. “I have been on track with all of my deadlines. Following the introduction of that scheme I proposed the work in my department has improved, I do not see why-“

“I gave you sole responsibility over that branch because I want to see your ability to manage on a larger scale than in your previous projects. That involves you actually being around to direct your workers.”

“Father, the individuals I’ve hired all hit a high standard and know what their role is. Me delegating some work or arrangements to people that are employed to do so is not-“

“I want your attention to be on your work, not whatever it is you’re doing in Tokyo. If any of your workers mess up it will not be on their shoulders. You will suffer the consequences. I do not want to lose big margins due to your selective negligence.”

A momentary pause hung between them, one that inspired a lot of tension.

“I understand.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Furihata-kun, I would prefer it if you would share what’s on your mind rather than have you sigh every three minutes.”

“Nothing’s going on, I’m good.” He sighed.

“You’re doing it again.” 

“Just feeling out of it.” He looked out the window, face resting on the table, watching as clouds slowly crawled through a darkening sky. There was a drink situated a few inches away from his face, condensation droplets sliding down the glass and pooling at the base atop a polka-dotted coaster.

None of Kuroko’s coasters matched.

Successive taps sounded from Kuroko’s direction, most likely texting. “What has caused you to feel out of it?”

Furihata shrugged.

Akashi wasn’t really talking to him.

He sent texts, but recently all the replies have been stilted and impersonal. Like an automated business response. He’d made efforts to meet up only to be shot down. Akashi wouldn’t call and Kuroko said he hadn’t been round at all for the last couple of weeks.

He gets it, life is life, stuff happens. Akashi also runs a business, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he doesn’t have too much free time to spare.

But still. He could drop a friendly text now and then. Was it too greedy to expect something like that?

He’d just been shut out. He thought Akashi would let him know if something was up, thought they were close enough for that now.

Furihata huffed, pout becoming more prominent. He didn’t mean to come to Kuroko’s only to sulk, but he just could not lighten his mood. Nothing other than Akashi floated in his brain, and unfortunately those thoughts lowered his mood further. It was not a good cycle to be in.

“Is it something to do with Akashi-kun?”

“No.”

Kuroko was undeterred by Furihata’s lack of enthusiasm. “You haven’t met up in a while.”

Furihata didn’t answer. It wasn’t technically a question, Kuroko was just stating and hoping he would elaborate on it. He sighed and looked at his drink once more, conducting a little race with the water drops, choosing a particularly full one as his winning contestant.

“He told me something about you.”

Furihata’s head whipped round so fast that the crackle of his spine was painfully audible. “Really?! What did he say?”

“Nothing, I lied. So Akashi-kun is the issue then. What happened?”

“I- ugh, you’re good at that.”

“I know.”

“It’s just…” He didn’t know whether to say the full extent of his feelings. He thought he made it pretty obvious that he had a thing for Akashi, but going by Akashi’s lukewarm responses to his advances maybe it wasn’t clear enough (or wanted).

Sometimes he would get close, very close, and Furihata thought hey, maybe there’s a chance. Like when they were around his, for example. That was nice – just them two, giggling over his childhood pictures, playing games, teasing.

He’d hugged Akashi, had let him hang in his studio despite the mess, let him in his bed, let him just generally _be close._ Furihata wasn’t like that with just anyone.

It was a bit of an issue, actually. Was Akashi just not noticing him in that way, or was it the opposite? Because if not then he was either a) Dense or b) Absolutely Not Interested. Which stung, but it is as it is.

If he did however pick up on Furihata’s like for him and chose not to bring it up then it was very simple: no acknowledgement as a form of ‘soft’ rejection. Which not only stung but also filled him with all sorts of feelings, familiar ones like inadequacy and shame.

“I don’t know. He’s been really distant.” He concluded.

“Did he say why?”

“No, I just get these general messages about being ‘currently unavailable’, but that’s pretty much it. Did…did I lay it on a bit too thick?”

“I wouldn’t say so. Akashi-kun has shown to not be very good at handling emotions in the past.”

“Oh my god.” He covered his face with his hands so his words were a touch muffled. “I _have_ rushed it.”

“Furihata-kun, don’t-“

“He never tells me anything about himself. He doesn’t want to share.”

It was two steps forward, five steps back. Did Akashi ever actually give him anything of substance? Did he ever reveal anything personal? It was mostly just Furihata blabbering and over-sharing.

He was gross, bloated with emotion, and not matter how deep an inhale he’d take the feeling wouldn’t clear away.

“Furihata-kun, Akashi-kun does not invest his time in people that aren’t work, usually, and recently you have been his sole priority. I would know.”

“Yeah, but it’s just friendly. He doesn’t…he doesn’t reciprocate what I feel for him. I can tell.”

“He gets intense with things, Akashi-kun doesn’t approach these issues without seriousness. He wouldn’t be sending you signals for the fun of it.”

Furihata sighed, not convinced. How could he be, when there’s clear physical evidence suggesting otherwise?

His moping continued, self-pity growing stronger at his predicament. Relationships always looked better from a distance.

Kuroko sat with him the whole time, scrolling on his phone. At least someone was there, just a presence was enough. Furihata felt like a bit of an ass, demanding they meet up and then not managing to sustain a conversation.

“You know, I’ve just been talking to a friend of mine and he’s finished work for the day, he’s free to visit.”

“That’s cool, I was thinking of leaving now anyways. I need to clear my head.”

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“Um, if it’s your friend I don’t want to-“

Kuroko rolled his eyes. “You’re my friend too, I already asked to bring you along. You can clear your head on the way. Put your shoes on.”

Furihata was keen on having a distraction and obediently went to get his shoes.

\-------

What Kuroko had failed to mention was that this ‘friend’ was Kise Ryota. The very guy he had a poster of inside the door of his wardrobe. How was one even supposed to react? _Kise Ryota_. In the flesh.

They were at a studio, workers deconstructing a photo shoot set, wrapping things up for the day. The scene was busy and they stayed off to the side to avoid getting in people’s way.

There were all sorts of interesting props and backgrounds scattered around the place. He saw models mingling with staff, wearing trendy clothes and probably clothes that would soon _become_ the trend. A few were sat near the edges of the room, taking off their make-up.

Kise was in a chair a bit more luxe than the others, discussing something with a grumpy man flicking through photos on a blocky, expensive-looking camera.

He was pretty. Furihata wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he looked even better in real life than he did on 2D studio-lit photographs. He’d never seen someone with hair that boldly blond.

It was hypnotising. Kise shined and glittered, something kept twinkling with any little movement. Either his silky hair caught the light nicely, accentuating gold strands, or his rings flashed with any movement of well-manicured fingers. Something was constantly shifting. Even his laugh chimed melodically.

Furihata looked to Kuroko, just to check this was actually happening, but he only continued tapping his game as though nothing was going on. Just an ordinary day, meeting a supermodel.

Furihata was trying to get his eyes to properly zoom and focus into Kise’s eyes, judging whether the artful flick on his lid was eyeliner or not when a gold iris suddenly snapped to him. Furihata’s heart jumped with it and he jerked, muscles going stiff in half a second, not expecting to be caught staring.

Kise tapped the man he was talking to and then two sets of eyes were on him. The other guy’s were a steel blue, completely static opposed to the honey-like quality in Kise’s. Kise murmured something in his and rose while the man with the camera wandered off somewhere else, grumbling something at another staff member.

Kise’s long coat swished as he approached them. “Hi there! I’ve heard soo much about you, Furihata-cchi.”

Why was he addressing him before Kuroko? What was he meant to say?

“Um, g-good afternoon!” He bowed, the pass around his neck dangling in its suspension.

The long coat Kise was wearing swished as he walked to them. Furihata gulped, unsure whether he was meant to carry the conversation, a bit uneasy with the fact that Kise even knew his name.

“Kuroko-cchi, good to see you too! It’s been a while.”

Kuroko hummed. “You’ve been busy.”

“Right? They don’t let me rest even a bit, how mean, my dark circles have never been worse.” Kise pouted, a hand coming to hold his forehead.

There were no dark circles on his face, Furihata could not catch a single imperfection, but he could sense the general air of tiredness around him.

Kise whisked them away to a more private area, one with lush maroon sofas and dark red walls. The dimmer look and smaller size felt a lot more personal over the harsh box lights in the other room, and so Furihata found it a lot easier to settle in, only the three of them present.

Long legs crossed over each other as Kise sat down on the couch opposite them, arms slung over the back.

“So, welcome to my work! I’m sorry you have to meet me in this state, I always wilt towards the end of shoots.”

Furihata shook his head, disputing this, because Kise looked fresh, eyes sharp and alert, clothes sitting crisp on his body.

“You look good, Kise-kun.” Kuroko said and Furihata nodded.

“Aw, thank you. So, curiosity is killing me.” He started, addressing Kuroko, tone playful. “This is the guy Akashi-cchi has been thirsting over?”

“Wha-“

“Yes.”

“Hang on, what do-“

“Aw! I did think it was strange that he messaged me out of the blue. You know, Furihata-cchi-“

“Y-Yes?”

“I invited Akashi-cchi to a night out before my birthday and do you know what he said?”

Furihata was a bit nervous with the sudden edge in Kise’s voice. He was pouting, expression sweet, but the look was wholly fabricated. He wasn’t sure whether this was just how he was, they had after all just met, and Kuroko was not helping him out in this situation.

After a few beats of silence he realised Kise wanted a response.

“Um, what did he say?”

“He goes ‘No, I have already made plans for someone else’. _My_ birthday Furihata-cchi-”

“No offense Kise-kun, but I do think Akashi-kun generally tends to avoid your events.”

Furihata found that funny. Akashi had mentioned that he _‘had an aversion to being around such taxing personalities in large doses’._ From the snippets he caught about them, Akashi and Kuroko had a very unique group of friends.

“And then one day, out of the blue, he sends me a picture of his outfit asking whether it looked ‘suitable’. _Never_ has he _ever_ done that before. He was wearing a mint- what’s your favourite colour?”

Furihata pointed at himself, confirmation that he was asking him, in the midst of it all, and quickly replied “G-Green.” Kise’s line of questioning was random and he could not make out what it was he was trying to dig for. This was not how he would typically start up a chat with someone he’s never met before

“Of course, I knew it! He was wearing a mint green sweater and green socks. _Pastel_. _Colourful socks. Akashi-cchi._ Could you imagine?!” He flailed his arms out, voice a little hysterical.

Furihata remembered that, it was what Akashi had worn when they’d gone to Pingu. It looked good on him, as all things did, and the sweater was too soft for its own good. Furihata was too embarrassed to report on the actual number of times he had inconspicuously brushed against him to feel its texture.

“Kise-kun, please breathe.”

“I’m sorry, but it was odd.” He muttered.

He was a bit like a baby. Furihata had not witnessed such drastic transformations, from suave model to…just a lot of pouting. He felt guilty and he didn’t even know why, as though he was personally responsible for Kise’s dissatisfaction.

“So uh, Kise-san, have you been friends for a while? With Kuroko and with Akashi?”

“Ooh, no honorifics.” Kise squinted his eyes, calculative, watching him over his knuckles. “How close are you two? Together yet? Akashi-cchi never shares much with me.”

If Furihata was drinking something he would’ve exploded it everywhere. Instead he choked on air, thudding his chest a few times to try and dislodge his embarrassment. That was a lot more forward than Furihata was used to.

“I- um…”

Quick answer: No. Technically, there wasn’t anything between them that would translate into them dating or being anything more than friends.

Alternative answer: also No, but Furihata was hopeful. He knew this hope was silly, knew not to expect anything, but it must be human nature to still be disappointed, even though you know that objectively there can only be a particular outcome.

Kise observed him for a few moments, Furihata could feel his eyes on him, however he just didn’t feel like reporting to him (someone he’d only just met) on his…delicate relationship with Akashi.

He was running his mind with how he could deflect, or avoid the topic, but Kise continued, subject dropped.

There was a lot of discussion on dating, outfits (‘You have to wear more purple Furihata-cchi, it looks really good against brown eyes!’) and slightly hushed complaints about Kasamatsu, who was Kise’s favourite photographer, as he’d found out.

He was privy to a lot more gossip, names he didn’t know. Kuroko seemed to be up to date on these things and Furihata happily listened to them talking, inserting himself when he wanted to. Some time down the line Kuroko looked at his watch and Kise too checked the time. Soon enough their meet-up was coming to an end.

Kise had a dinner with a client booked for later in the evening, so he technically wasn’t actually finished with work.

“I’m sorry if I was being insensitive earlier, Furihata-cchi, I just know how bad things like this can get, when two people dawdle around each other, both thinking the worst, denying themselves, when actually a lot can be solved through an honest chat.”

“Akashi-cchi is my friend, I want good things for him, but he keeps to himself a lot and it doesn’t always help him.” He tilted his head, hand supporting his face at the cheekbones. “I can see you’re a good person, whether you see it or not Akashi-cchi is a lot happier with you around. Just don’t string him along, if you’re unsure.”

He looked sad, completely different from the baby-ish caricature earlier. Furihata took the words seriously, noting the change in mood and the unexpected fragility in Kise’s voice.

A solid succession of bangs hit against the door and he jumped in his seat, spooked both by the noise. He was closest to the door so the sound was louder.

“Ah, that’s my cue. Come in~”

The man from earlier swung in, Kasamatsu, his stormy eyes landing on Furihata first. He nodded to him and Kuroko in greeting before gesturing to Kise.

“I’m ready to go.” He grumbled, a navy coat folded into his elbow.

“Okies. Well it was nice meeting you, Furihata-cchi, I hope we can chat again sometime!”

“L-Likewise.”

“And you too Kuroko-cchi, you’ve been quiet today. I expected more juicy info.”

Kuroko shrugged his shoulders. His eyes looked saggy, he’d been staring at a screen too much today. “I thought I’d let you do your magic.”

Kise laughed. “Of course. Furihata-cchi, give me your number, so that we can talk some more!”

They exchanged numbers, Furihata initially fumbling with his phone, feeling all sorts of things. Kise hugged them both goodbye, apologised that he was busy, and walked with them out of the building.

He and Kuroko walked in a pair, pavement not allowing for more, while Furihata and Kasamatsu walked behind them.

Kasamatsu wasn’t much of a talker and after exchanging a few pleasantries they walked in silence. Furihata couldn’t really blame him, him and Kise both probably had a long day. He himself got quite sick of all the lights and camera flashes and he’d only been there for a fraction of the time.

He mulled over Kise’s words. He wasn’t stringing Akashi along, however he most definitely hadn’t been honest with his feelings either. If Akashi wasn’t expecting anything other than friendship that was fine, but it would be good to get his feelings across and dispel any confusion, at least for Furihata. He’d rather say what he had to say and move on over forever guessing Akashi’s intentions.

Furihata was aware that it put a risk on their friendship, things would inevitably change, but as they say honesty is the best policy.

\-------

“Oi Kuroko, you’re missing the film.” Kagami said. His breath ghosted through Kuroko’s hair, the two of them nestled together on the couch.

It was a rare opportunity, for them to be alone. Kagami still had a week and a bit before he would be going back to the states and Akashi hadn’t made any visits as of late.

The film was one he’d seen before: in a few moments the girl would lose grip on the rope and the whole team would drop into the chasm while her father would watch on, helpless, with tearful eyes.

He couldn’t focus on it, worried about Furihata, who’d professed that he would tell Akashi how he felt about him. He kept checking his phone in hopes of an update.

A few weeks ago Kuroko would’ve encouraged it, however after he’d talked to Kise and found out that Akashi had generally withdrawn from everyone he wasn’t so sure. He too wanted them both to be happy, agreed with everything Kise had said, but the way Akashi was acting recently did not forecast anything good.

_‘He just sends me cold replies, Kuroko-cchi, like those bot things do. It’s like he didn’t even read what I had said! So mean!’_

Furihata had said something similar. Kuroko thought that at first Akashi just wasn’t replying to him only. He should’ve talked to Akashi more.

“Oh my god! Kuroko, she’s losing her grip-! THEY FELL? NO?!”

Kagami’s grip around him tightened and he looked on with wide eyes, tense with the sudden silence in the scene.

Kuroko’s hand went up to soothingly stroke the short hairs on his nape, his own nerves playing up, worried for both Furihata and Akashi. It was never easy to get to Akashi when the other was more dominant. Furihata most likely wasn’t aware of this.

His phone finally buzzed and he unlocked it at lightning speed, wait over.

**[I did it.]**

Kagami was saying something, commenting on the scene but Kuroko wasn’t tuned into his shock at predictable plot twists.

[And?]

**[Still single as a pringle ;)]**

Kuroko’s heart fell. He made a call but it got rejected on the first ring.

[Furihata-kun, please elaborate. If you want me to come or visit us that’s fine.]

**[Us? Is Kagami around ;)]**

He attempted another call only to be met with another ‘call rejected’. His fingers furiously typed questions, concerns, more offers, anything that could help Furihata feel better in the moment. He wasn’t as cool as he probably thought he was with his unaffected texts, the emoji’s didn’t fool Kuroko.

**[Listen.]  
[Thank you, but I’m fine.]**

[Believe it or not Furihata-kun but I’m doubtful of that.]

 **[Seriously.]**  
[I’ve had this before.]  
[I’m just gonna mope for a bit and then tomorrow it’ll be back to the usual!]

[I don’t want that. I want to call you.]

**[Nope.]**

[Fine. First thing tomorrow morning then. I expect a call before 10am.]

**[No promises but I’ll see if I can pencil you into my schedule ;)]**

Kagami placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, drawing him in. The movie played on in the background, sound muted.

“Hey, what’s the sad look for? You alright?”

“Furihata-kun asked Akashi-kun out.”

“…It didn’t go well?”

Kuroko shook his head. “He didn’t tell any details, but definitely not. He’s upset.”

“Well stuff like that happens, it’s not always perfect, right? Plenty of fish in the sea, Akashi isn’t the only work-obsessed tycoon with daddy issues out there, if that’s what Furi’s into.”

The joke was weak. Kuroko appreciated the attempt to lighten things up but it had no effect. His phone remained open on the message app, awaiting any further messages from Furihata. Nothing came and Furihata’s icon, a picture Kuroko had taken for him when they visited Harajuku, displayed as ‘offline’.

“I was the one who prodded him. Him and Akashi. I might have misjudged.”

“Hey, s’not your fault. You didn’t puppet him about, he did as he wanted. Furi knows what he’s doing, put some trust in him. He’ll figure things out.”

“Trust isn’t the issue, I don’t want him to be feeling down because of what I-“

“Tetsuya.” It was a reprimand but a gentle one. “He’s an adult.”

Kuroko sighed and deepened into the embrace Kagami offered. He was right, Furihata had a good head on his shoulders. The worry didn’t leave, but as Kagami had said he needed to trust that Furihata would seek him out.

\-------

Furihata took in the sight of his room, same mess as always. Something coiled in his stomach, urged him to just do _something_. 

Twenty minutes later he was dressed in old ratty clothes that had all sorts of bleach stains and rips in them, a set he wasn’t worried about ruining. His eyes were a bit puffy and he had a headache, so hopefully all the cleaning products he’s hoping to use will clear that out, or at least give him a different pain to focus on.

 _‘I appreciate you telling me, however I struggle to see_ us _as a unit.’_

He cleared all the rubbish first, getting rid of food boxes and disposables. Doing a full-on tidy was always tiring but always had perks – he found his old watch (somehow stuck between the kitchen cupboards), recovered a CD which contained a mix of all the songs he was into a few years back and undug a lot of other long forgotten items.

‘ _I do not have the capacity for a relationship right now. You as well should be prioritising work and studies.’_

Then came the proper clean, the grime-busting, dust-scattering wipe down. He took out and rearranged everything he had stored in the cupboards, wiping and sanitising everything. He hadn’t realised how much oil had built up around the hob.

The tin of biscuits that Akashi had brought him fell out from one of the top shelves where he was trying to dust. It landed on the countertop and bounced onto the floor with a clang. The build was good, expensive, because the box remained unhinged.

He picked it up. He trailed over the raised parts that we’re embossed with interwoven flowers, metal impossibly smooth, almost soft, until his fingertips felt a groove, a scratch. Probably from just now. It still had some biscuits in it.

Furihata placed it at the very back of one of the kitchen cupboards, stacking everything else to cover over it.

_‘Do not hesitate to contact me should you need assistance with anything. I still consider you a close friend.’_

To be disregarded in that way, he’d misjudged Akashi a lot. Maybe it was true, all those at the top of their corporate chains were a bit psychopathic. How was he even supposed to react to something like that? It’s as though he got an assistant to leave a memo for him, which made him feel even wor- no. He wasn’t going to think about this now.

He changed his bedsheets, a fresh grey set, which he actually laid out for once instead of having the sheets carelessly strewn however he left them in the morning. He fluffed up the pillows and sorted all the things he’d piled on his bedside cabinet, arranging them into the right storage spaces, until the whole top was clear.

He did the same with all the bottles and tubes he had in the bathroom, chucking out ones that had gone dry or were simply out, standing everything up in neat rows. The mirror and shower glass had a layer of dry water spots which he wiped away.

Was he the one in the wrong? Maybe it would have been better to not say anything at all. Akashi was out of his league by many leagues, had he just been shooting too high? It would explain why he ‘struggled’ to see them as a ‘unit’…

The glass on the mirror squeaked as Furihata’s cleaning got more aggressive.

Furihata wouldn’t take all the blame, he felt as though Akashi had led him on at times as well. Like a cat baiting when it wanted to play but then pushing away once things got inconvenient.

His anger made his hands unsteady, frustrated at his situation but also simultaneously unforgiving at his own shortcomings. If only he’d been whatever Akashi’s type was, if only he had his life sorted and didn’t need to be ‘ _prioritising work and studies’_ , didn’t flunk the first time round, if only he was someone of a similar calibre to Akashi, _if only if only if only._

A wet sniffled echoed in the bathroom, and the sight of his own crumpled face in the mirror almost brought him over the edge. He stepped down and looked away, taking a few breaths to cool the painful heat that had been climbing in his throat.

With the bathroom done there was only one thing left to do – hoover, and then he’d have a nice, squeaky clean studio. It was a little inconsiderate, hoovering at this time of night, but his neighbours could forgive a one-off, he was never noisy otherwise.

It didn’t matter. His insecurities were his insecurities, but hating your whole being because it didn’t match one person simply wouldn’t do. Furihata had this! It was okay to be sad, it’s natural, he’s human, rejection always hurts, but oh well! _You live and you learn_ , he told himself. They’re still friends.

After everything Furihata showered and changed into a fresh set of pyjamas. In his view there wasn’t much that beat the feeling of climbing into a clean, cotton fresh bed in an equally clean set of pyjamas.

It was nice, seeing the place clean after living in a pigsty. He hadn’t really noticed it had gotten that bad. It made the whole space feel a lot bigger (and a lot emptier).

He sort of wished Akashi could see it now while it was so neat, a thought that made him bite his lip to stop the pre-cry trembling.

Akashi would probably storm his kitchen first with all that healthy, homemade food he raved about. Furihata was curious to see how he cooked, how his food tasted. Probably good, because Akashi just had an innate talent for making _everything_ good.

Scenarios of what Furihata imagined they’d be like if they were together rolled like a videotape in his head. For example Akashi teaching Furihata how to cook, them going for a walk around the city, hand in hand, taking cute pictures of each other, hugging-

His arms harshly brought a pillow over his head, as though physically warding off those images.

He turned the lights off and settled into bed. It was three o’clock already.

His room was clean so he’d done at least something productive, he had a day off tomorrow, he’d met _Kise Ryota_ (talked to Kise Ryota!), found some cool old stuff. All good things.

Yet he fell asleep with tear tracks on his cheeks, curled into himself, heart heavy and mental space containing anything but good things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we move on! I kid you not I had four different versions of this chapter. I'm reaching that point where I just want to move things along and write the bits that inspired me in the first place, but I also want these little developments in between >.< Do lemme know what you think of the progression so far!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed <3


	7. Chapter 7

Seijuro had known that the boy sleeping on that couch in Kuroko’s flat would be an issue _instantly_.

He waited diligently, through that hazy state he was in while dormant, until the inevitable train wreck would arrive.

He experienced their mental space become increasingly occupied with Furihata, watched as Akashi filed notes of absence meeting after meeting, as he rushed major deals and delicate investment plans that required tonnes more attention, as he pushed away work at every opportune moment.

“Akashi-san, would you like to look over the report now or should I scan it for later?”

Seijuro held out his hand, head not rising, eyes still running across the characters on his laptop. Heels clacked towards him and he grasped the papers he saw hovering in his peripheral. He made space for the document and soon red corrections filled up the page.

The office was quiet, everyone on task. Seijuro was semi-partitioned from the rest but the glass walls only absorbed some of the noise – it was enough to allow privacy when he was talking to clients individually but open enough to hear the general noises of the others.

His pen continued to scratch against paper as everything in the background blurred and he re-focused on his thoughts.

Seijuro was not surprised by their father reaching out, was ready for Akashi to lose his grip on things. If anything he was confused at Akashi’s confusion at it all, like the direction he was steering to wouldn’t have brought consequences. Akashi thought he had things under control but this was almost never the case - Seijuro would not be awake right now if his brother had been able to ‘manage’.

Furihata’s confession was similarly not a surprise, was as standard as it got. He’d asked if they could meet up because he wanted to share something with him but Seijuro declined. Furihata had obviously not expected that and rushed out choppy words about love and adoration on call, improvising. Unremarkable, predictable. The absurdity curled his lip into a mild cringe.

A firm ‘pang’ echoed in the room at the clock striking to four. One more hour and his colleagues would be due to go home. He flicked his wrist to double check. Pleasant silence would soon be filled with noises of people trying to subtly pack up and get ready to leave. He purposefully allowed himself a break when it got to half past four, knowing he’d be unable to think in the ruckus that would ensue when it got to ‘home time’.

This was the problem with having close friendships and caring for social connections – things got tangled too often too quickly, and the disorder of the concept gave Seijuro headaches.

His biggest obstacle when switching into control was this exact aspect of Akashi’s life, something he could never predict but always, _always_ , disrupted his work. He had to untangle those knots.

Be it people inviting him to birthdays at the last second, someone coming to gossip, another wanting to be reassured, last minute meet ups, all of it clashed at the most inconvenient times and set everything back.

The Furihata situation was the perfect example of this, because after he’d thorned himself into Akashi’s side both of their lives went haywire.

Seijuro very quickly came to the conclusion that Furihata Kouki was a social bond that would best be severed. The negatives of his presence in Akashi’s (and Seijuro’s) life far outweighed the positives. Unlike Akashi, Seijuro never found any issue in cutting those who had no function out of the picture.

Furihata wasn’t just useless, he was a handicap.

He was not aware of Seijuro and he was not aware of the sort of person their father was, would never fit into their world. Akashi Masaomi wanted his one and only son to have very specific types of people in his future, a type that Furihata would never be able to mould himself into.

Furihata wasn’t wholly to blame, he had no chance knowing things Akashi wilfully concealed from him, however he was persistent enough that Seijuro needed him out. Akashi could do as he pleased afterwards, but in the present Seijuro would use methods that suited him.

What he’d done had (temporarily) worked – after the rejection Furihata had not contacted him for a week (and a day). After that a few texts came his way, simple things, asking Seijuro how his day had been and the like. Seijuro steadily ignored these, they were all meant for Akashi, and his auto-reply system did the work for him (he still read them, but the response was always the same). He hadn’t expected the recovery to be so quick.

A few weeks of that and the texts completely dropped in frequency. It had now been close to two months since they’d last talked, no distractions coming his way.

The scuttling of papers, chair shuffles, and gradual decrease in keyboard taps let him now that now was the time to get a drink. He nodded to his colleagues on their exit and filled a tall glass with cold water, drinking while standing by the windows they had in the staff room.

The view was bland – tall complexes and a lot of grey, typical city landscape. It didn’t help that the whole week had been cloudy (and this day being no different), so that plus their tinted windows added to the of dullness.

Seijuro left the office after everyone had long gone, locking everything up and arranging his desk to be ready for the following day.

\-------

Seijuro never really managed to discern what it was that made Akashi hate the flat they had in Tokyo. It was in a good location, close to their main building but also quiet, as quiet as a capital could get.

The interior was pleasant, a very modern design, with lots of geometric arrangements and tasteful combinations of stained wood and grey slate. It was easy on the eyes, nothing like the ornate decorations they had in their family home. The floor-to-ceiling windows occupying the whole front allowed for a crisp view of the skyline and of the city below it.

Seijuro hadn’t made much effort to personalise the space, preferring the empty walls and colourless furniture that didn’t distract in any way.

Akashi had only ever visited twice, once for viewing and once for moving in. He preferred making the constant journeys from Kyoto to Tokyo and stayed with Tetsuya in that little beige-themed spare room. All the artworks Tetsuya had hanging on practically every wall made the back of Seijuro’s eyes pound. He never saw the appeal.

The kettle whistled and he took it off the hob, promptly soaking the tea leaves he had prepared. An aromatic fragrance spread into the air and he took a deep inhale.

Seijuro often worked through Saturdays so Sunday was his true weekend. He’d finished all he’d set for the day quicker than expected and so had the whole evening free to relax, unrushed because he wouldn’t need to do anything the following day.

This time of leisure was always wasted, because Seijuro found it near impossible to fully relax. Most days he felt he didn’t need the break. It calmed him, but gave him no feeling of refreshment.

He brought the tea with him to the sofa and took a book out of the draw hidden in the coffee table. This was the time he valued most. Complete tranquillity, mind purely his, not Akashi’s, no indistinct murmurs echoing in his head, no foreign thoughts invading him.

Twilight set in and Seijuro’s form became tinted with a blend of purples oranges and pinks, posture straight as he read, steam from his tea rising and collapsing into itself throughout its ascent into the air.

What could’ve been hours later a notification buzzed in the coat he’d neatly slung over the arm chair. It felt like a luxury, not having to care about time and routine for even a few moments. Seijuro blinked in its direction, eyes strained from reading in poor lighting. It had gotten dark and the only source of light was all the night lights that bled through the windows.

**[I’ve been trying to talk but you’re just blanking me. I want to meet.] 21:48  
[Onda park, 2 o’clock, next Saturday.] 21:48 **

He shut the screen off and pressed the phone to his lips, thinking. His week wouldn’t be busy, he could make time. Would it be better to deal with this now and avoid any future meddling or do as he did for all the other messages?

Seijuro didn’t owe Furihata anything, didn’t feel that he had to in any way explain himself.

[Onda park, 14:00, next Sunday.] 21:52

**[Fine, Sunday.] 21:52**

Nothing else followed. Seijuro scrolled through their conversation, a wall of identical messages from his side. He got far enough to get into the period where Furihata and Akashi had talked.

With a sigh he again shut off his phone and went back to reading, unable to wind down and get ready for sleep.

\-------

Come Sunday curiosity no longer motivated Seijuro and he was already antsy with the amount of time this would cost him.

He arrived ten minutes early and Furihata was already there. He was squatted, trying to take a picture of a squirrel that had jumped down to the grass patch near him just off the pavement.

He’d looked no different to what he’d seen of him through Akashi’s memories – messy. Seijuro wanted to straighten his clothes, brush his hair, tie his shoelaces properly. Everything was loose and casual.

He’d remained silent but Furihata must’ve sensed his presence since he turned around, their eyes meeting immediately.

It was odd, seeing something you’ve been completely distanced from appearing as something familiar. Seijuro had never met this person yet he knew he could recite all the souvenir magnets he had on his fridge. None of the experiences were his, it was artificial, like he’d grown to know Furihata through movies, a synthetic image that he had no personal perception of.

Furihata raised from his position, patting away non-existent debris from his trousers and fixed his bag strap to sit properly on his shoulder. A brief pause ensued while Furihata took in his features, brown eyes set on his. “Say, you look a bit different?”

Seijuro did not do much to his appearance. He and Akashi went for similar fashion and their grooming preferences stayed the same, regardless of who was in charge. There wasn’t much to differentiate between them, physically.

“Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.” Furihata said, powering through Seijuro’s silence. His voice wasn’t aggressive but it wasn’t cordial either.

Seijuro did not like the tint of confrontation and his teeth ground against each other. “Do not assume that I’m here because you demanded I be – I’m here partly because my schedule allows for it and partly due to my temporary interest. Nothing more.”

Furihata grimaced and bit his lip to cover the expression but Seijuro caught it.

He ran a hand through his hair with a small tremor in his fingers. It made his already wild hair even more eclectic and Seijuro’s own fingers twitched with the urge to fix it, smooth it out, tame it somehow. He just exuded disorganisation.

“Anyways,” he continued, “That’s not really important right now.”

Seijuro didn’t say anything. In his view everything had already been covered. Not worried about subtlety he flicked his wrist for a quick glance at his watch. He was still trying to gauge what the purpose of their meeting was.

“You reject me and then ignore me for close to three months. You’re acting completely off.”

“I have not been ignoring you.”

“You have. Just because some robot is replying to my messages doesn’t mean anything.”

“And this displeases you?”

Furihata’s eyebrows drew downwards and his mouth pursed. Seijuro was sure he’d never shown such an expression to Akashi and perceived it as defiance, disliking the disparity in respect shown towards him versus his brother. He crossed his arms, the air between them escalating from wary to tense.

“Yes,” Furihata ground out, “It _displeases_ me. I…I want to talk about, well. You.”

There must’ve been a break within the clouds above because a patch of sun moved over Furihata, bathing him in sunlight, skin hued warm and brown eyes glowing. Life buzzed around them, birds crooning and children’s squeaky laughter carrying well past the playground. The environment they were in did not fit the mood at all. The sun was out but coldness bit at the skin on his nose.

Irritated at the slow pace and lack of development Seijuro urged Furihata on, neat leather shoes tapping on gravel.

Akashi had voluntarily spent his time on this person. It baffled him.

“So talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter bullied me I got K.O.’d and nearly cried and even with that I still only managed about 2k words I don’t know what I’m doing writing for a pairing that has such a complex main character and such a complex dynamic like how highly must I have thought of myself to even attempt and I don’t even have a difficult plot like what?????????? And this is considering I’ve planned everything out? Me: a FOOL
> 
> Hope you liked!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning (I should’ve mentioned this previous chapter oops) – The details here (and in the following chapters) are my interpretation of Akashi’s DID based on what I’ve picked up from canon and what I’ve found out from research, and while I’ve tried to make it accurate/representative of true DID this is fiction and I would definitely not use this as a guide to what DID sufferers go through.

Seijuro interrupted whatever Furihata was braving himself up to say, the delay too long. “Kouki, I will be frank with you. I do not think you and Akashi are suited-“

“W-Why are you talking in third person?”

“Do not interrupt me.” He warned and Furihata’s mouth clamped shut, his eyes wide. “There may be a compatibility that you are trying to nurture to bear something fruitful, but in terms of social standing you are on complete separate spheres. This, as you can imagine, would bring a lot of problems. Ones you do not have the capability to handle.”

“Um, what are-“

“I would appreciate if you would stop hounding me, or us, because it is disruptive.”

“H-Hang on. I feel like I’m missing something, you-“

“You are not suitable.”

The sudden stop to their conversation was solid, like a physical wall had dropped between them. Furihata gripped his bag tighter but made no move to leave, standing his ground. Seijuro noted the courage but it didn’t impress him. Was it truly courage, even, or was it just disguised stubbornness? Seijuro’s tapping on the ground became more pronounced at the silence, waiting for some sort of closing statement so that he could be on his way back.

“Look, I get it, I made you uncomfortable with my feelings, but you don’t have to shut me off like that. I got the message, okay, I’m not gonna be creepy and like, force myself or pester you with it or anything.” Furihata took a deep exhale, his voice heating up. “Before anything else, we’re friends. You can…if there’s something you don’t like, you can share it with me. You don’t have to be all weird about it. Communication, y’know?”

So this was the problem, this was what Furihata perceived to be the reason behind Seijuro’s (or in his eyes, Akashi’s) withdrawal from him. Seijuro let a pause hang between them, thinking through the best route to solve this misunderstanding quickly. Based on the measures he’d used prior, continuing to block Furihata out would no doubt inspire more questions and more digging, the exact opposite of what he needed.

On the other hand, discussing everything would mean more questions now but no future badgering. Furihata would get an answer and would leave him be, because while he was ‘friends’ with Akashi, Seijuro owed him no such thing.

 _No better time than now_ , he thought. Leaving things half-done would just be inefficient.

“You’ve mentioned, several times, that there has been a difference, observed something unfamiliar. Me and Akashi, the one you’ve been primarily exposed to, are two separate identities.”

A brief breeze shuffled past them, as if punctuating Seijuro’s statement. Furihata gave a few hard blinks at this revelation, mind no doubt whirring. There wasn’t anything in his features that indicated he understood what Seijuro had just said.

“We share a body, but our minds are separate. I, unlike Akashi, do not have time to frolic and push my work into the background, hence the rejection. I don’t see why I should need to water Akashi’s plants while he’s gone, so to speak, so all of your emotional issues are to be resolved with him, not me.”

“Wait, so-“

“Yes.”

“And so-“

“Yes.”

Furihata’s eyes had gone saucer wide. “So when…at what point did you, y’know.”

“Not long after he went to visit you at your place of residence. Work was becoming an increasingly pressing matter that he wasn’t addressing and so I intervened before things got further out of hand.”

“You were the one who…”

“Yes, I was.”

“Right.” Furihata raised his gaze from the ground and an expression of annoyance overtook his confusion. “Well. That was a bit of a dick move.”

“… _Excuse_ me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? I mean, I spent all that time calling you and trying to patch things up, and it had been you making things worse all along?”

“Making things worse?” Seijuro did not even try to conceal his shock. Merely suggesting that _Seijuro_ was at fault here was preposterous. “You have been the one to-“

For the second time, Furihata interrupted him, not concerning himself with Seijuro’s drawn eyebrows and growing frustration. “So you guys are separate, right? What gives you free rein over…what should I call him- you guys? I’ll just stick to- anyway, what gives you the right to mess with his side like that? When he re-possesses himself, or returns, to see you mess everything up, I don’t think it would be all that good or either of you?”

“First of all,” Seijuro gritted, disliking the shift in conversation, “Our personal business is not open to your judgements. Second, how dare you imply that I’ve been the source of the issue? Was it not you who decided it would be best to spew their feelings out in the first place?”

“Thirdly,” he started before Furihata could get a word in, “I have not ‘possessed’ anything and Akashi will not be ‘re-possessing himself’, that is _insulting_.”

“If you had told me that you were the one in at that moment and not Akashi, I wouldn’t have done so! You just led me into it!”

Seijuro cocked his head, not pulling his punches. Furihata had riled him up, challenging him so directly that control and composure flew out the window. Furihata’s ire was inflating his own. “Have you considered, even for a second, that maybe you’re not as special as you think you are, since my brother had a very solid amount of time to make you aware of our situation, yet chose not to?”

At this Furihata’s breath hitched and he quietened, his puffed chest deflating. His hand came back up to fiddle with the bag strap, earlier bravado extinguished.

They both breathed hard at the air between them, Seijuro’s intense eyes boring into Furihata’s, almost daring him to look back at him.

With a lot more reserve Furihata continued. “Look, this is all news to me, knowing that Akashi wasn’t the one who rejected me, knowing about you at all…but your words at that time still hurt. I’m sorry that I’m a bit emotional right now, however, if I was in your position, I wouldn’t mess up my…my other self’s life like that. As you said, me and you,” he flicked a hand between them, “Aren’t close. But I value Akashi a lot, and knowing that you’re doing…whatever it is that you’re doing doesn’t sit right with me.”

Seijuro wondered what right Furihata thought he had to intervene in any of this. “You have to understand, Kouki, that our relationship functions the way it does for a reason. I was borne out of a need to deal with the issues that Akashi could not handle. The fact that I’m here right now means that he was in an unstable state and needed me to step in. A state that he got himself into because of _you_.”

“I- but what did I-“

“See? You don’t even know, and yet preach to me about the wrongfulness of my behaviour. I act in both of our best interests, to ensure me and my brother excel in our pursuits. My decisions are not unfounded.”

“I don’t get any of this.”

“I tried to be civil with you. Akashi would’ve reached out to you when he was back and that would be that, me and you would never have even met, however your tenacity is rather strong.” Seijuro said, more so to himself than to Furihata.

“No, you pulled me in from the beginning.”

Seijuro sighed. Furihata carried on, not put off by his attitude.

“You made an effort to completely cut me out. Akashi going back to resume what we had was never an option. That’s why you made it sound so final and why you’ve been completely ignoring me.”

“That is not the case.”

“Yes it is. I think you were planning to discourage me from seeing him completely and so when he’d come back I wouldn’t want to be around him anymore.” Furihata’s tone was soft (or at least softer to what it had been prior), not accusatory, however the fight was still there.

“You know what there is to know now,” he said, curving around the question, “You hold Akashi’s progress back, but I cannot physically restrain you, so do as you will. Just know that you were a problem, are still a problem, and will continue to be a problem. This little bubble you have constructed will burst and someone will have to deal with the fallout.”

Furihata regarded him with furrowed eyebrows. He was looking for something in Seijuro and he couldn’t tell whether he’d found it or not.

“You’re really unpleasant.”

It had been a very long time since Seijuro felt true shock, like a cold smack against his face. He’d forgotten the sensation and the unpleasant lurching swoop in his stomach that came with it, because after Furihata’s final statement he could not do much than stare with wide, almost manic eyes, Furihata’s figure already retreating out of the park.

His mouth formed around soundless words, unable to call him back for a rebuttal. 

\-------

If Seijuro had been distracted before, the days following their conversation had been utterly unproductive. Wasteful.

Work was futile, because Seijuro could not type more than a few sentences before he’d felt a phantom pang of that pressing feeling again, any thought of Furihata a constant trigger.

Furihata had not disobeyed him in that moment, he’d simply walked off without fight, like Seijuro wasn’t of importance. Had it been Akashi in his place, the reaction would have been completely different.

It angered him, in a way, how defensive Furihata was of Akashi, how virtuous he was in protecting him from Seijuro. Like a tenacious puppy guarding its master, knowing full well it couldn’t do much and so doing everything to make the sacrifice worth it. Like Seijuro was the ultimate villain in their little happy universe.

He massaged his temples and then brought his hands to cover over his face.

Achievements and excellence or not, he still only ever came second to Akashi. Despite everything Seijuro could never validate his existence; Akashi was always the ‘original copy’ that people went back to. Seijuro being better, being stronger, being smarter was unimportant.

What was he, then, without those things? Wholly unimportant? Completely abundant?

His frustration was replaced by something a lot more corrosive, a pain that stung much deeper, and he forced himself out of that line of thought before it did any more damage.

Seijuro had a simple role and he would do his absolute best to fulfil it. Whether he was ‘unpleasant’ or unimportant did not matter, so long as his objective was met.

He repeated this to himself over and over any time a thought doubting his aims swam through his mind, trying to tamper his uncertainties, because Akashi Seijuro was never uncertain. He did this while reading, mind not concentrated on the words at all, did it while typing out documents for the work he’d fallen behind on, did it until his mind was an unorganised mess of unlinked sentences and harsh quips.

The following working week was a mess that didn’t show on the outside but one he certainly felt on the inside. His mental space was a few steps away from chaos.

Furihata was something that had bugged him (even more so than before), try as he might to push him out of his thoughts, and continued to bug him until he decided that only physical intervention would solve this maddening cycle.

Their roles had reversed and Seijuro was the one trying to reach out, to get Furihata to acknowledge him in some way, because the way they ended things had played by Furihata’s terms - Seijuro did not feel like the true victor. He’d won on some level but lost in others, there was no finality.

Which made no sense – he’d achieved all he’d wanted during their talk: for Furihata to be made aware of his inadequacy, for him to stop contacting Seijuro and extricate himself from his life. All of which happened. Had been happening, for close to two months – their text chat was silent.

There was a dissonance between what he knew, logically, he needed to do (detach himself from Furihata because that situation was now dealt with, he held no further responsibility) and what his mind told him he wanted to do (call, talk, because Furihata’s quiet insubordination felt dismissive, like Seijuro’s involvement was insignificant).

A timid knock sounded on the glass door to his office, and after a third attempt with no response it was tentatively opened.

“Akashi-san?” The lady at the door questioned, only her head peeking over as though hiding behind a barrier.

Seijuro took a sharp, barely audible inhale of air which he hoped concealed his absentmindedness.

She coughed into her fist, clearing her throat free of the words that had gotten stuck and bowed. “I apologise, I did knock, however there has been an urgent message from one of our shareholders that needs your attention as soon as possible.”

“I will get to it.”

“I, while I’m here, would you like any help with those documents?”

Seijuro looked to the area she’d gestured to and a new type of anger washed over him in a heatwave. Had his mind been in order that pile of papers would’ve been sorted hours ago.

He shook his head, glaring at the work he still had to attend to. “I will handle it myself. See yourself out.”

\-------

Following their ‘incident’ the only way Seijuro obtained any information regarding Furihata was through secondary sources, which made it difficult to gauge when would be a good time to get in touch. 

Kuroko dropped his name every so often, little snippets that told Seijuro practically nothing about how he was doing. He’d have the occasional reminders in his calendar again, Akashi having recorded notes like ‘ _Kouki going for a blood test today, ask if he wants any support_ ’, or ‘ _Kouki’s cousin’s birthday today, congratulate_ ’, or ‘ _opening of new café, ask Kouki if he wants to go_ ’.

 _Not brave enough to call him by his first name yet you write it in all of your notes like it’s nothing,_ he thought. S _pineless._

It was sappy and made Seijuro’s nose cringe. Akashi didn’t note down the dates of professional events but thought Furihata’s cousin’s birthday needed its own reminder. What did it matter? It couldn’t be more irrelevant to their lives.

Curious he flicked through the months until one event caught his eye.

_‘21 st – new section of museum opening, invite Kouki, booking to be done three days in advance.’_

Red eyes became illuminated with a hazy blue coming from the screen, no longer just the calendar on display. He scrolled, attention not swayed by any other exhibitions, looking for one that would suit the description in the note – opening on the twenty first.

It was not as well advertised as some of the other things going on but he found it. It would be a week from now.

He bought online tickets and reserved slots, unshyly sending Furihata the date and address, demanding he be ready.

\-------

**[No.] 14:19**

[What do you mean no?] 14:19

**[I’m not going.] 14:20**

Seijuro forced himself to breathe and relax, momentarily holding his phone to his chin and counting down a sequence. “Why is dealing with you always so bothersome.” He muttered aloud.

[And why is that?] 14:24

**[Why should I?]  
[You said you don’t want me around.] 14:24**

[The invitation above obviously states that in this instance I do.] 14:24

**[So you expect me to come to your beck and call?]  
[I’m busy on that day.] 14:25**

[I can reschedule.]14:25

**[That’s not the issue.]  
[Why do you need me to come?] 14:25**

What would appeal to Furihata? What reason would be suitable?

[To spend time together.] 14:26

His screen flashed with an incoming call, Furihata’s face displaying on the contact icon. In the photo he was busy with something, evidently taken without his knowledge. Akashi, no doubt. He rolled his eyes and picked up the call.

“Good evening, Akashi Seijuro speaking.” He said, phrase coming automatically.

“What is going on? You ranted to me about how I’m beneath you and now this?” Furihata’s voice was choppy and fuzzy, the quality of the audio subpar. He must’ve been out, because some of his words were completely cut out by sudden static bursts.

Truthfully Seijuro didn’t know what he was hoping to achieve with this, but something nagged at him. He just needed to tie up the remaining loose ends back into neat stitching and that would be that. You don’t leave unfinished business to fester.

“I thought it might make for an interesting outing.” He supplied.

The ensuing silence on the other end was good evidence that Furihata did not have great confidence in these words.

“Right. Then…I still don’t understand. What do you hope to get out of it?”

“Some of your time, an educational day out.” He offered. He knew Furihata didn’t trust this explanation, so his agreement to come was probably curiosity. Wary curiosity, but it provided Seijuro the opportunity he’d needed.

They agreed for Sunday.

\-------

On the day he sat waiting on a bench a few blocks away from the museum, their printed tickets neatly tucked into his phone case. His eyes were waiting for a familiar figure to stroll by, only to be called out from behind. Seijuro didn’t startle.

“You’re seven minutes late.” He twisted around to face Furihata as he stood up, pocketing his phone into his blazer.

“Yeah, got held up.”

He was a little out of breath, and Seijuro couldn’t tell whether his current scruffiness was due to his normal unkempt style or because he’d been rushing. A combination of both, maybe.

Furihata quickly matched his pace and they walked the short distance left to the museum.

“So…we’re actually going?”

Why wouldn’t they? “Yes.”

“I thought it was just like…a cover or something.”

“A cover.”

“Yeah…to get me out and talk.”

“And what is it that you suppose I would ‘get you out’ to talk about?”

Furihata again didn’t fall for his digging and walked on, hands in his pockets in a nonchalant fashion that didn’t at all match the rigidity in his spine.

They got in without hassle and walked through the different sections with minimal interaction. Seijuro would often find himself walking ahead alone, Furihata stuck reading plaques and information posters, playing with the interactive exhibits and taking pictures of basically everything on display.

Seijuro also enriched himself with the things that caught his eye. There was a painting that he spent a longer time analysing over the other artifacts. It was very dated, however the red pigment in the sun situated behind a white (now yellowed and dirtied, but you could see the former hint of a brighter white in the scratches and tears) and black birch tree. There was a ghastly quality to it, the red sun looming gloomily over thin branches, all surrounded by thick yellow borders and faint grey clouds. Eighteenth century, edo period.

A quick chatter filled the room, disrupting his thoughts; high pitched squabbles coming from a babble of children on a school trip. Their teachers shushed them but Seijuro was already out of the atmosphere brought on by the painting and moved on, before realising that he’d be leaving Furihata behind.

His eyes searched the room for a bog green bag filled with mismatched badges; it was easiest to locate Furihata this way.

He was stood with his face glued to a pane of glass that partitioned off a set of fourteenth century tools (ones most likely meant for the richer classes, based on their decadent designs and precious stone hilts). Seijuro sighed. A child came over to copy him and did the same, both of them dumbly pressed again the glass, like if they pushed hard enough it’d bring them closer.

He watched as a security guard came up to them and politely asked them to keep back from the displays. Furihata apologised with repentant whisper-shouts and a shallow bow. The child standing beside him imitated him before jogging along to the sound of his teachers’ stern ‘ _come back please_ ’.

 _No better than a six year old_. It was nearing two o’clock, the time of admission for the new exhibit. He waited for Furihata to catch his eyes and beckoned him over with a chin tilt.

“What’s up?”

“They will be showcasing a new exhibition that should be of interest soon, we best make our way.”

Furihata nodded without asking for any clarification and re-joined his side, walking closer than before. They circled round the building to loop back to the front, where a small queue was already forming to a set of closed double doors blocked off with a thick red rope.

“Whoa, what’s this for?”

Trains, apparently. Seijuro had not understood when he saw it on the website and questioned whether Akashi had got the right date, because…locomotives? He had to trust Akashi was competent enough to get at least that right. It concerned Furihata after all, and Akashi was scarily attentive to his needs.

“You will find out in…” He checked his wrist. “Four minutes.”

“…But I want to know now.”

“Tough.”

Turns out, ‘trains’ was in fact correct, because the minute the doors opened and the queue was allowed to stream into the room Furihata’s shook with an excitement not present before, like he was enticed in all directions and couldn’t decide where to go first.

He seemed to forget his dislike for Seijuro, leading him around different models and briefing him on all the specifications and historical significances of train designs. Seijuro was content with standing aside in a corner, but it seemed like he didn’t have much choice, because Furihata dragged him along almost immediately.

“And look-“ he tugged on Seijuro’s sleeve, “-this one stands at nearly seventeen thousand feet above sea level, so it’s the highest railway line. Since it’s so elevated, they have to do some really amazing maintenance operations- and oh! That’s JGR class one fifty! It was built in Britain, and then brought here, the first steam train to run in Japan! I can’t believe they got it in here from Saitama- and whoa-“

Seijuro learned about the evolution of the train engine, how the first model of the Shinkansen was introduced in nineteen-sixty-four and how it has grown since, the role of trains in the war periods, and a lot of general the-more-you-know facts that he would never need after today.

Nevertheless, it was interesting.

Seijuro found himself asking questions, confident that Furihata knew his topic (and he did, was more than happy to share his thoughts with Seijuro plus extra background information he hadn’t asked for). His knowledge elevated Seijuro’s opinion of him

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this, how’d you even book so quick?” He asked him once they had their fill. Seijuro wasn’t aware there would be a talk (which Furihata predictably wanted to be around for) and they left a lot later than his estimate of four o’clock.

Seijuro ignored the question, because revealing that his brother had this all planned and written down seemed unnecessary. “Did you want to go to the souvenir shop before we make our leave? It will be on our way.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

They walked out of the museum decidedly better than they’d walked in – Furihata’s steps were lighter, bouncier, and he no longer repelled away from Seijuro like they were the same poles on a magnet.

“What is that?” He pointed to the small camera figurine Furihata was smoothing over in his hands. It looked like some sort of phone charm.

“It’s for Kasamatsu-san. He is Kise’s friend. And this,” he dug out a roll of poster paper, “is for Kuroko to hang in his room.”

“Does he not have enough wall decoration already?” From what he remembers Kuroko’s whole living room was covered in paintings and graphic media.

“Nah there’s always space. This is for Kagami, he never has a pen on him, and I thought Kise-san would like this. And you can have this.”

Furihata stretched out his hand to drop something into Seijuro’s palm. He’d not been expecting it and there was a pause between the giving and the receiving.

It was a stack of post-it notes, featuring a small brand of the museum’s logo in a corner, small and unobtrusive.

“You don’t have to use it.” Furihata rushed to say. “But I figured both you and Akashi like things you can use, so you can just leave it in your office or give it to your co-workers.”

He flipped it over in his hand a few times, feeling the texture of the paper. “Hm.”

He waited with Furihata at the metro station. Furihata’s line was estimated for four thirty eight, they must’ve walked too fast, since they still had twenty odd minutes to spare.

The station was relatively quiet, considering it was the weekend. A train whooshed past and sent a wave of cold air onto the platform.

“So.” Furihata started.

Seijuro didn’t turn to face him, staring at the line of tracks and wires.

“Today was okay.”

“It was.”

“You- well. Thank you, I guess. I haven’t gone out much cause of work and stuff. I’ll pay you back my share for the tickets.”

Seijuro shook his head. “No need, I invited you.”

Furihata chuckled, a light, chiming sound. “Akashi said that as well, ‘I invited you’, which apparently means that I automatically don’t have to pay for anything.”

“Hm.”

“I wanted to apologise.”

Another train went past and a herd of people boarded it, making the platform even quieter.

“I…I said things I shouldn’t have. I got really confused and emotional and- I shouldn’t have talked to you like that, I’m sorry that our first meeting ended up the way it did. I don’t want us to be on bad terms. Kuroko told me some things that day, cause’ I needed some help with it all, and I didn’t really consider your disorder properly. And said something really insensitive.” He sighed, probably uneasy at Seijuro’s silence. “Your view of me must be pretty poor…I don’t expect you to forgive but-”

“I also would have conducted myself differently, had the circumstances been more favourable.” Seijuro would not apologise, because although he recognises that his words had been biting they did not hold an ounce of dishonesty – he had meant what he said.

Nevertheless the admission pleased him, because it meant that Furihata recognised him (he didn’t stop to think why that was of importance).

“Yeah, it was quite intense. I’m not gonna apologise for the other stuff, though. What I said about you manipulating Akashi’s life – I stand by that.”

“Manipulating? I think you’re still misunderstanding.”

“Tell me then, how you two manage it, because to me it doesn’t make- no, that’s fine, I’m not gonna argue again.”

Another metro train screeched past them with a sound that split the air. The scenery was a strange mix of warmth and coolness. The lamppost lights were a buttery yellow and bounced off all the plastic signs and sleek train bodies, however the concrete floor and the metal works absorbed the tone of the sky, blue clashing against yellow.

Furihata rubbed his hands together for warmth before putting them in his pockets, leaning onto his other leg which tilted his body away from Seijuro.

“I’m still around for you, if you want.” He offered, and Seijuro knew he was looking at him. “I’m not going to call you or anything, you don’t seem to like that, but if there’s anything you need I’ll always answer, okay?”

“We’re not friends.” Seijuro stated, declarative and matter-of-factly.

“We could be.”

The statement made Seijuro’s upper lip curl up but Furihata had no longer been looking at him and that was how they parted; Seijuro was once again left with mixed feelings, unable to rejoice. HIs heart felt lighter but his mind was still at war with itself. Furihata left with a hesitant goodbye wave once the train pulled in and was quickly engulfed in the mass of people getting out and became part of the throng of people getting in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long notes today!
> 
> I remember there being discussion on whether Akashi’s (Bokushi’s) yellow/gold eye was visible to everyone in the knb universe or if it was done just for the reader (while the characters in the universe themselves could not actually see this).  
> I’ve decided to approach it in that way, so his eye colour stays the same and the characters do not see the ‘gold’, the only thing that varies is their behaviour. 
> 
> The museum used here is Tokyo national museum, however I only used this as base – I had a look on their website and it looks like they do have weekly exhibitions, but I do not know whether they’ve had any train stuff (sorry I just needed a Tokyo location that was somewhat accurate and a general museum so that they could go round and explore different bits (there are of course specific metro/train museums in Tokyo)).
> 
> The JRG 150 class locomotive is actually currently in the Saitama train museum, not in Tokyo, but I just mashed things to suit what I needed so pls don’t look into it too closely lol. The Shinkansen (the Japanese bullet train) did indeed start operating in 1964 (with huge upgrades and changes as technology improved).
> 
> Thank you for reading and lemme know your thoughts!


End file.
